Icicles
by roseabellaaa
Summary: "Clementine...look at me, please." He begs gently. She does and he's heartbroken by what he sees. Luke holds onto her so tight he thinks she might just break, and her teardrops fall like icicles melting in the burning sun. [cluke - no apocalypse au] [no romance until clementine is 18] [ hiatus ]
1. I

A/N: **For those who have an issue with the shipping between Luke and Clementine:** When I first got into the fandom and learned of the ship I was freaked out by it too, so trust me when I say that I understand why this may make you uncomfortable. It took me a really long time for me to even tolerate the ship, let alone have it be one of my OTPs and want to write for it like I am now. Truth be told it grew on me, but only in the case that CLEMENTINE IS AN ADULT, I don't ship 11-year-old Clementine with 26-year-old Luke, EVER, that would be absolutely disgusting. Even though Clementine starts off young in this fanfiction, **nothing purposefully romantic happens between them until she is over 18 years old** , but in these early chapters before that, they do meet and become good friends. Nothing more.

Yes, that is Clementine in the bed in the opening scene, and yes she is over 18 in the opening scene. My parents have a 17 year age gap and they have known each other since my mom was nine, they didn't get together until my mom was in her twenties. So I personally would be able to understand and accept a romance between two people who may have known each other when one of them was a younger age and started a relationship much later in life, when that person is a proper age.

If it offends or disgusts you then that's fine, I won't try to convince you otherwise, I just request that you turn back if you think this could offend you. You don't have to read this, I'm not forcing you to read this. Any rude reviews will be either ignored or deleted. Nevertheless, thank you for clicking on this story, I plan on putting a lot of effort into it and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Alcoholism

* * *

 **Note:** It's late as I'm publishing this and I'm too tired to properly proofread it, so I apologize for any errors, I plan to properly check it over tomorrow!

If you're like me and like having songs to listen to well you read fanfiction, or just don't mind some song recommendations, I've decided to sort a few songs for each chapter into my own little playlist.

1\. Closer by nuages

2\. Nothing Lasts by Bedroom

3\. Clementine by Sarah Jaffe ((hah get it!? Cause clementine!? Ok i'll stop.))

4\. Next To You by Alicks.

5\. Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 1

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

He can't sleep.

Luke's almond eyes flutter open and slowly begin to adjust to the dimly lit space around him, a small flickering lamp sits on the dresser across from him, and he feels the body beside him begin to stir as he leans forward. After probably a half an hour or so of laying in his bed, squeezing his eyes shut and making a poor attempt at trying to fall asleep, he finally decides that his efforts are futile.

Meanwhile, the young woman whose arms are snugly around his torso sleeps like a rock on his beaten up mattress, she barely responds to his movements other than a few quiet mumbles and soft shifting against him. She exhales hot breaths onto his chest with the rise and fall of the blankets that cover her naked body. A sub conscious smile is tugging on her heart shaped lips and he can't help but smile brightly back at it.

There's a flame that burns deep in his chest that he just can't get over, it makes him giddy and restless, it's an excitement he hasn't felt in years. He has the urge to open the window and holler till his voice reaches across this whole damn city about just how happy he is at this very moment.

He holds back on that daydream and gently withdraws the arm that is wrapped lovingly around the woman, trying with every ounce of effort he has to not disturb her peaceful rest. He releases himself from her hold and immediately misses her warmth when the cold air hits him. He can't help but take the chance to run his fingers through the messy curls of her hair, he twirls his fingers around the loose dark strands and can catch the lingering scent of lavender shampoo before he finally pulls away.

He searches for his loose articles of clothing that had been thrown around the room during the heated exchange from barely an hour before, but the mess that his room already is makes the task harder than it should be. His eyes catch her wine red sweater first, it sticks out amongst the dull tones of the rest of his room, near it is her black skinny jeans, along with her bra and underwear, all of which he picks up and folds on the nightstand by her side. After some digging, he finally comes across his own clothing, a navy blue sweatshirt, faded blue jeans and boxers, he puts them all on for the second time that day.

He faces the window and stretches his muscles, the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, most of the light that exposes the road beyond is from the streetlights rather than the natural glow of the sun. He paces the small room after that, his sights switching from the female laying on his bed and the darkening scenery outside his window, overwhelmed by his own thoughts of nostalgia. He doesn't know how to release this energy.

After a couple minutes, he sits at the wooden desk on the other side of the room, opens the top of the laptop and waits for it to load up. When it does, he does the only thing he can think of, he writes. His fingers are rabidly typing on the keys, only stopping whenever his mind goes blank.

The memory of her high-pitched voice echoes in his mind, words from seven years before, the eleven-year-old stands above him and exclaims confidently. " _Remember my name, because soon I'll be on your television with an Olympic gold medal around my neck."_

He types into his computer impulsively.

 _Her name was Clementine._

* * *

The first thing Luke notices about Athens is the people. The place is well populated and it shows when he observes all the residents that fill the streets. Among the faces is a large group of friends, carefree as they laugh and joke with one another and cheerful street performers playing all kinds of instruments. A man in a business suit rushes through the crowd, talking through the phone in his hand. His gritted teeth and furrowed brows show a rage that Luke recognizes from his youth. Even so, the multiple people Pete's truck passes is refreshing to him.

They come to another red light, and the car comes to a slow halt. He hears a stifled groan from his friend, likely frustrated by the extended length of their ride due to traffic, which earns him a glare from his uncle but other than that, nothing is said as the car lapses back to its comfortable silence.

He can see the clear agitation in his Nick's body language and can only imagine what a task it is to hold in his anger. Even Luke, the more tolerant of the duo, can feel his patience draining as cars overload the downtown roads and make more traffic. They should've known choosing Sunday to be their moving day would be a mistake.

Before Nick could finally snap, they enter the cul-de-sac where their house is located, compared to the downtown area it's strikingly calm, without the few people he notices sitting on their porches and the children playing ball hockey in the street, it would be barren. It's peaceful but welcoming, it's an improvement to him.

Their new house, small, quaint and inexpensive, sits atop elevated terrain, the grass is greener than ever and a dying flower garden surrounds the walls. He assumes the previous owners must have had quite the green thumb.

Pete parks in the driveway of the home and Nick gets out hastily, the ebony hair that peeks out of his hat blows in the wind as he mumbles to himself. "Finally…"

Even if he won't see it, Luke nods in agreement as he exits the car in a more placid manner, shutting the car door softly. "Thanks for helpin' us out, Pete." He says with his casual southern drawl.

Pete gives him his typical smile. "Not a problem, I knew I'd have to be here to see you two boys out."

With that Pete goes around to open the back of the truck, filled with furniture and decor lent to them by different members of Nick's family. Although most of it is old fashioned and probably out of style as interior design goes, it cut the costs of moving for the two men considerably.

The older man turns to them. "It's gonna be a long day, hope you two are ready for some heavy lifting."

He flexes playfully. "Never been more ready in my life."

It's when he and Nick are carrying a beige stained couch into the house that he realizes just how big of a lie that was.

They work until the clouds are tinted orange by the setting sun. After two or three hours of bringing the bulk of the furniture in and arranging it around the house, Pete leaves after giving the two young men an unusually heartfelt goodbye. After the couple of years he has spent living with Nick and his family, he knows that the uncle is a reserved, and even at times, strict man, so the vulnerability he shows as he hugs the two men warmly, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, comes completely out of nowhere for them.

He can see the way Nick's demeanor changes, the irritation that had grown previously from the stress of their 8-hour moving day vanishes and becomes despondent. Pete and Nick argued often, Luke has been in the room through most of their verbal clashes, but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the two cared for one another deeply.

From their porch, they stand and wave as his truck backs out of the driveway and drives off, it would be the last time they saw that man for a long time. There's a weight on his heart that he can't describe as the truck vanishes from sight, he was going to miss Pete and the rest, they supported him through the majority of his lifetime, showed him what having a true family is like, but he knew his sorrow couldn't compare to Nick. That man is a momma's boy through and through.

Nick yawns. "Let's get inside, I need a drink."

 _Typical_. Luke grins, running his fingers through his chestnut locks. "Me too."

It's comical that of all the things Nick chooses to get for their house, with the little money he has, it's a 12-pack of beer, that will likely be downed within their first week of living there. At least Luke was a little more decent, buying himself a new guitar to fuel his musical hobby, his old guitar, that he had been playing since he was eleven, was a lost cause.

Luke cracks open the can and takes one big gulp. The soft musty liquid that runs down his throat comforts him. If it were anyone else, Luke would make some form of attempt at small talk, but instead, he and Nick sit on their old battered couch and drink their beverages in a pleasant silence.

His most trusted friend, and within Athens, his only friend. He's known him for nearly two decades, met by chance after being assigned cabin mates in their summer camp. Luke was a friendly seven-year-old, to the point it likely verged on annoying, he had done everything he could to strike a conversation with the more introverted boy, asking him dumb questions and saying every knock knock joke he knew. As he's grown older, he has come to appreciate being able to sit wordlessly with someone, without awkwardness or tension, just a serene, quiet atmosphere.

Nick breaks the silence all too soon, his gaze remaining on the old television they have yet to set up. "This is really happening, huh?"

Luke's hold on his beer can tightens and produces an unpleasing metal sound. "It is."

Maybe it was a little cruel, he thinks to himself, when he told Nick that he was making plans to leave Tennessee. He spent the rest of that night being practically interrogated by him, trying to convince him to stay but he just wouldn't budge. Until Nick approached him one day, asking if he could join him.

"You regrettin' it?" Luke asks.

"Possibly. Considering I just spent an entire day hauling a bunch of old ass furniture around."

The two snicker at each other's mutual suffering, he can feel the tightening of his back and the soft aches of muscles building up to soreness, he has no idea how he's going to get out of bed tomorrow.

* * *

A week after moving in, Luke is able to nab himself a job at a gardening store, and although he'd like to say his minor in agriculture is serving him well, the truth of the matter is that the place is extremely desperate, but that doesn't mean he isn't gonna pretend whenever Nick questions him about it.

 _With an eyebrow raised, Nick scoffs. "A gardening store? For like, old ladies?"_

" _You're just jealous cause my agriculture minor came in handy and no one's called ya back yet."_

" _Whatever, call me when your art history major finally comes in use."_

 _He's never gonna live that one down, is he?_

It certainly isn't what he came to Athens for, however, it's still a paycheck. At the same time, Luke still isn't completely sure what he did come to Georgia for. The first thing he ever told Nick to defend what was, at the time, a hasty decision, was that he wanted to move on to something new, something bigger, give himself a blank canvas. Luke isn't a planner, he takes things as they come, so when the 'plans' for Athens were finally coming to tuition, he thought he'd figure it out once he got there. Now he is there, and he has no idea what the fuck he's going to do.

He shakes away his insecure thoughts, he was going to figure it out, it might take awhile, but it was all going to click into place soon, he knew it. This is a good first step, gotta start somewhere.

He began walking down the driveway, pausing for a moment to glance longing at the empty garage. His first priority, if he got- _when_ he got a job, was to get he and Nick a car. That dream only fueled by his failed google maps searches for their nearest bus station hours earlier.

The melodic chirping of birds added to the peaceful atmosphere of his living area, brown eyes catch the sight of an older plump woman just across from their house. She wears a sun hat over her short, thick blonde hair as she waters the beautiful garden that lines her porch. She seems kind enough, maybe he can get some directions out of her.

He slowly walks across the secluded road, not wanting to scare or possibly threaten the distracted woman, she continues to pay little attention when he makes his way up her driveway, and he's only a few feet away from her when she finally becomes aware of his presence.

She jumps slightly with surprise but quickly greets the younger man with a polite smile. "Oh, hello." She says with a foreign accent he can't pinpoint.

Luke gnawed at his lip, he knows for a fact he isn't looking his best right then, thanks to the early alarm he set for himself, as well as his slight hangover from the night before, dark circles are layered under his eyes, and the barely visible wrinkles of his face were deepening. If the older woman feared him doing something unstable, he wouldn't be shocked.

"I'm real sorry to bother you, my name's Luke, you may have noticed my friend and I movin' into the house across from ya not long ago…"

She nods. "Oh, yes, it was unusual to see two young men coming into our area, we're used to families, most of the younger adults stay downtown." She takes off the soil covered gloves she had been tending to her garden with and holds out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Katjaa."

"Likewise." He says as he shakes her hand casually, a smile coming naturally to him. "I'm on my way to a job interview, I was wonderin' if you knew where the nearest bus station was?"

"I'm sorry but I have no idea…"

Luke tries to hide his disappointment, fighting against the urge to drop his smile. "Not a problem, thanks anyway."

"Are you looking for a car? My husband has been trying to get rid of our old ford for awhile now, I could put a good word in for you."

The man looks over his shoulder as he leaves. "In a couple months maybe, I'd appreciate that."

Katjaa waves at him with a gentle smile. "I'll let him know, good luck!"

For a second, Luke feels lucky that he decided to wake up as early as he had because he can already tell there was gonna be a long day ahead of him trying to navigate this new city. With a tired sigh, he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and opens up the google maps app.

The thing about job interviews is that they never stopped being terrifying, Luke feels fairly confident most of the time, but all of that can fade away the second he enters the gardening store five minutes before he's scheduled to be there. Usually, it's all in his head, that's what it all comes down to, but sometimes it wasn't, and those times were the worst. He is able to calm his nerves slightly through the reminder that the place really was desperate for some employees. If that were true, the manager, a balding man a little over forty, certainly doesn't show it, he gives Luke a badly hid (if he was even trying to hide it) disinterested glance before bringing him into the backroom of the store and leaving.

When he returns a little over half an hour later, he inquires the young man about if he has been there before, the stuff he buys there, the things he likes to garden, why he wants to work there. It's ten minutes until the older man visibly cringes and tells him he isn't what they're looking for, and Luke has a feeling that he made his judgment the second he walked through the door.

The wind blows through his hair as he stands on a crosswalk, waiting for his chance to walk, he's in a complete state of shock as to how badly it had went, and wants to punch himself in the face for not preparing more beforehand or visiting the store or buying formal clothes to wear. It had left a fairly large dent in his ego.

As he walks across the street, the young man is already mentally preparing the detailed essay of the events he's going to relay to Nick when he gets home, and the one-star deconstructive review he was going to leave on Yelp.

So maybe, just maybe, it was all a little bit petty, but nothing sucks more than putting a ton of work into something only for it all to be thrown into your face with a _'you're not what we're looking for at the momen-'_

"Move, move, move, _move!_ "

Taken out of his thoughts, Luke's head whips around to the voice coming from behind him but doesn't have time to comprehend what he's seeing before the right side of him collides with a smaller body with a deep 'oof!'

He hears the sound of his own shoes scratching at the pavement in his bewilderment, along with the sound of wheels rattling against the ground. He takes a few unbalanced steps backward but ultimately is able to keep himself from falling, he exhales a breath of relief. It's not like he hasn't embarrassed himself enough today.

He turns around and his relief is suddenly replaced by guilt. A young girl, probably in middle school, is sitting sprawled across the sidewalk, highlighter purple skateboard in hand as she tries to see what damage has been done to it. Despite only wearing knee pads and no other protective gear, she recovers pretty well, instead of a helmet, her messy dark brown hair tied in short pigtails is covered by a blue and white baseball cap, a capital 'D' embroidered in the center.

She barely takes notice of his presence or at least doesn't show it, more concerned to figure out the state of her skateboard. Luke shifts awkwardly, unsure how to approach her, after staring at her for a few seconds, he decides to ask the most basic question he can. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

"Uh, kid?"

"I'm fine," she says and points at the item in her hands. "Is 'she' okay is the real question."

He's bewildered and at a loss for words for a few seconds until he realizes that she's referring to her skateboard. He timidly takes a step toward her and draws his attention to the inanimate object, clearing his throat before speaking. "Are you okay, skateboard?"

She looks at him for the first time since they have crossed paths, and he's greeted by large golden irises that squint at him. "What are you doing?"

"Uh-"

"You know skateboards can't talk, right?" She says matter of factly.

"Well, duh!"

"Then why are you trying to talk to it?"

"Well! I mean-You were…!" He tries to formulate some kind of explanation as her amber eyes stare up at him, but when his mind draws a blank, he gives up. "Nevermind."

After just a few more moments of investigating the object, her face relaxes into a satisfied expression, and she finally stands up from her spot on the pavement. "Just a few scratches, other than that she'll be good." He wonders why she would relay that tidbit of information onto him but quickly grasps that she is talking to herself.

Her curly pigtails bounce when her head pops up with realization and began to apologize, going on a tangent mid way through. "I'm sorry! That was probably rude, I destroyed my last board a few weeks ago and Kenny said he wouldn't buy me another one if I ruined this one so…I didn't mean to bump into you, I lost control on the hill a bit back."

He smiles warmly. "It's fine, no hard feelings, kid. I was in a pretty bad mood long before you came through here."

"Really, did something happen?" She asks curiously, digging her hand under her hat to scratch at her head.

He fights back a scowl, his expression twisting a bit. "Eh, I got rejected during my job interview."

"That sucks."

"Yeah…"

There's a pause before the girl places her skateboard back on the ground, putting a single foot on it to keep it from rolling away, her words are short and rushed. "Well, I have to go so, bye."

He doesn't get the chance to respond until the girl is rolling down the hill on her board at top speed as if she had never run into anyone on it in her life. He was glad to bump into her, really, it distracted him from his furious thoughts of his humiliation just an hour or so before.

* * *

Just two weeks later, he's leaning against his laminated countertops as he watches the microwaveable popcorn bag that was his dinner for the night, inflate to the tune of popping kernels. He'd like to tell himself that his poor choice of meals the past couple of weeks has to do with him and Nick's dwindling funds, but he knows microwave meals and pizza would still be his diet if he were a millionaire. The alarm of the microwave sounds but Luke puts it in again for twenty more seconds, unpopular opinion but, he likes his popcorn slightly burnt.

Once that's over and done with, the man eagerly opens the popcorn bag, taking a handful and deciding not to go through the trouble of getting a bowl out for it. He walks over and leans it over a corner of the couch well he gets a can of beer. He grasps onto the metal and slams the door of the fridge shut, eyeing the logo that had become a staple for him, so much so he was sure he could describe it perfectly if asked, but like most brands of beer he had adjusted himself to, it had become bland to him.

The first rule of business once he gets a job; (after the car at least) get himself some better liquor, it felt like forever since he'd had a taste of some vodka or tequila, hell even a strong cider for that matter.

Truth be told the last time he had those kinds of alcohol was the day before he and Nick were to officially move, a ragtag celebration put together by some of his old friends, Bonnie, Mike, Tavia, Hank, the whole gang. Though he had kept a hold of himself that night, aware of how terrible the moving day would be with a wicked hangover. He had tried to impart his wisdom onto Nick as well, but his old friend only regarded him with a drunk groan before chugging some whiskey.

He was going to regret saying it soon, but he misses having the 'I can't even get out of bed without choking on my own vomit' hangovers. Even if the last time he'd had the type of hangover was barely a month ago.

Now he sounds like an alcoholic...he wasn't an alcoholic, right?

Luke shakes his head sheepishly at the thought before cracking open the can of bear and plopping himself onto his couch. "Course not."

The can is inches away from his lips when a light but repetitive knocking comes from his front door. His eyes narrow at the interruption, but for the most part, doesn't think much of it. Putting the filled can on the coffee table, he makes his way to the door, when more knocking comes for what he feels is the thousandth time, he finally opens the door.

The older woman from a couple of weeks ago stands before him, her blonde hair tied up in a tight bun, wearing some kind of veterinarian's uniform that he assumes has to do with her job. What was her name again? Something Kat. Katherine? Katrina? Katjaa, right?

"Luke!" She cries, her voice filled with panic. He jumps back a little bit, shocked by the change in attitude, as well as the fact she's apparently remembered his name a lot better than he had hers. "I'm so sorry! Are you busy right now?"

 _Define 'busy'_ the sarcasm in him fights to say, but he holds it back, finding it important to leave an impression of maturity on his new neighbor, well he still can that is. "No, I was just eating…" he paused to look over his shoulder at the bag of popcorn on his couch. "-Dinner. What's up?"

"My husband just called to tell me he had crashed into a ditch on the freeway." He wants to give her a polite and sympathetic apology, but she is continuing her explanation before he can. "He's not hurt, but...we have three children in our house at the moment, and I have work in twenty minutes! Can you...watch them for the evening?"

Luke's chocolate eyes glance down at his feet hesitantly. "Well, uh…"

"I'll pay you! One hundred for the night! Just, please, I have no one else to go to."

With the promise of payment, along with the woman's clear distress from the situation, he decides that it won't be too hard to watch over a couple of kiddies for the night, and with Nick out of the house as well, he really had nothing better to do, as sad as that sounded.

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

"Oh, thank you so much! I'll introduce the kids to you before I leave."

The practically run across the road over into their house, which is much larger in comparison to he and Nick's, but still has a comfy feel to it. Their layout practically matches that of their house, except with a second floor where three bedrooms are, and a second washroom. At least that's what she tells him, not caring to tour him around the upstairs area in her hurry.

Katjaa leans over the railing of the stairs as she calls for the children. "Kids! Get down here, please!"

No response.

" _Now!_ " She adds, harsher this time.

Then comes the shuffling of feet and creaking of floorboards above them, signaling that an arrival will be coming shortly. "Coming!" A young boy's voice calls back, who is soon seen rushing down the stairs.

He's a brunette boy with a face of freckles and a buzz cut, he wears clothes that seem to be just a few sizes too big for him, as his shirt hangs off his arms and the ends of his pants go past his ankles and cover his feet. His dark eyes stare at Luke curiously as he walks toward his mother.

Close behind him is a girl, rose-coloured glasses frame her eyes, with thick ebony hair that reaches her shoulders. Her shy personality becomes frankly obvious to him when she seems to stiffen at his presence, but all in all makes her way down the stairs to stand with Duck, avoiding the young man's gaze.

He expects to see another, but that's it, didn't she say there was three?

" _Clementine!_ " His thoughts are interrupted by the older woman's shout.

"Sorry!" Comes a voice, and suddenly the girl's steps are echoing through the house as she bolts down the stairwell.

Luke goes to say something to the stressed mother beside him, but his mind goes blank when he catches the familiar baseball cap and dark pigtails in disarray. Is that…?

Judging by the way her brows jump up when their eyes meet, she must recognize him as well, what a coincidence. This has to be the skateboarding girl from a few weeks ago, the one who had given him a nice purple bruise on his forearm that had yet to fade since. He doesn't know her, at all really, but his amazement is gained more so by the oddity of the situation than anything else.

He wonders if he should greet her, or maybe that's too weird, they only spoke to each other for a few minutes.

Katjaa is speaking before he has the chance to make a decision. "This is my son, Kenny Jr…" She places a hand on his head gingerly, making her son scowl. "We call him Duck though, he's a ball of energy so don't let him have too much sugar, he can get a little...you know."

She gestures to the shy girl beside him. "This is Sarah, we're babysitting her for the next two weeks, her father is a doctor, very busy man. She's a polite girl, nothing to worry about."

Luke's gaze switches over to the last child, Clementine, as she said before. "Finally, this is Clementine, she's pretty reserved, but she likes to go off on her own without asking and horrify us." Katjaa narrows her light eyes at her, as if reminding her of a previous time she had been reprimanded for the act but relaxes her face quickly after. "We've had her around for a year or so..."

The young girl's face twists as Katjaa continues, and it seems Luke isn't the only one who notices because Katjaa cuts herself off after that, and the other two kids give Clementine concerned and bewildered glances.

"Anyway-" She says after a pause. "Children, this is Luke, he's our neighbor and he'll be taking care of the three of you for the evening. Treat him well and stay downstairs with him until bedtime."

The three nod before Katjaa is exchanging numbers with him, rushing out of the house immediately after, saying her goodbyes and giving her son a quick kiss on the cheek that that kid seems to be disgusted by, she thanks Luke a million times over before she shuts the door.

The loud slam echoed through the open living room, and Luke stands there awkwardly, kind of lost on what to do at this point, the three only stare back at him, waiting for his first words to them.

A thought pops into his head suddenly, he'd usually keep it to himself, but he decides that he might as well let it out to fill the silence. "Clementine, huh?" She glances at him."Are your parents named Peach and Cantaloupe?"

Her eyes narrow, but Luke is able to spot the badly concealed smile on her lips.

* * *

 _"Hufflepuff!?"_ Duck cries in terror, a truly disturbed and shocked look on his face as he stares down at the screen of Luke's laptop.

"I knew it!" Clementine shouts before she bursts into maniacal laughter. "Gryffindor my ass!"

"Language." Luke scolded, but a smirk is tugging hard on his lips.

At the start of their evening, they had lounged on the two large leather couches and tried to find something to watch on the television, a pretty boring event but Luke was truly at a loss on how to entertain them, and Kat had instructed that he not let them out of his sight. Well flipping through a load of channels, Duck shouts at him to stop on a channel that has one of the Harry Potter movies playing on it, and he asks the other two girls if they would be okay with watching it, to which they both nod. As someone who had been an avid reader of the books in his early teenage years, he doesn't try to fight them on their decision.

It's during the sorting hat scene that the three, specifically Clementine and Duck, get into an argument.

" _If I were in Hogwarts, I'd be sorted into Gryffindor." Duck says, sitting beside Luke._

" _Oh, please, you're a total Hufflepuff!" Clementine retorts._

" _Oh, sorry! are you the sorting hat, Clementine? No? Then shush!"_

 _Her curly hair whips around as she turns to Sarah, who is sitting on the same couch as her. "Sarah, back me up here. Duck is not a Gryffindor, right?"_

 _The older girl (surprisingly, Clementine is the youngest of the three) glances at the brunette apologetically. "Sorry, Duck, but I agree with Clementine here, you have a lot of Hufflepuff traits, I've read all of the books so I should know." She proclaims, as if it were the greatest achievement of her life._

" _You know what!? What house are you then, Clementine!?"_

" _Gryffindor." She answers smugly._

" _I bet you're the Hufflepuff! You're just accusing me of being a Hufflepuff to hide all your Hufflepuff-ness!"_

" _Okay! Okay! Hold your horses! This is just a movie!" Luke interjects finally, honestly amused by the bickering of the kids, it fills him with a nostalgic feeling of he and Nick as children._

 _Duck ignores the young man. "We need to end this! Get out the Pottermore quizzes!"_

And that's when Luke was practically forced out of the house to get his laptop (he also decided to grab his new guitar well he was there, just in case he had the urge to play all of a sudden) and bring it back to the house for them to use.

Clementine and Duck were both on his heels trying to get a hold of the thing, Luke compromised by handing it to Sarah, who takes the quiz wishing for a Ravenclaw, and squeals once she sees her result is exactly what she hoped for.

Much to the boy's displeasure, Sarah ends up handing the laptop to Clementine afterward, and the two argue as she answers the questions and ends up with a Gryffindor, leaving Duck in a huff once it's his turn to take the quiz.

He got Hufflepuff. He almost feels bad for the guy.

When the boy seems to sink into the cushions sadly beside him, Luke gives him a smile. "Come on, what's wrong with being a Hufflepuff, Duck?"

Duck whispers to him so the other girls won't hear his admission. "They're the dumb ones."

"that ain't true," Luke says, trying to dig into the darkest depths of his mind to remember the traits of the house that he would've known by heart during his childhood. "They're loyal, friendly, hard working, I'd be proud to be a Hufflepuff."

"Yeah, Duck, Hufflepuffs aren't that bad. Cedric Diggory was a Hufflepuff! He was a really cool character, you know…when he was...alive." Clementine admits sympathetically.

Duck smiles ever so slightly, adjusting himself on the couch, a playfulness in his tone as he responds. "Yeah, Hufflepuff's great, you guys should be jealous."

"Have you taken the quiz before, Luke?" Sarah asks then.

Luke freezes in spot then, knowing how seriously the three took the quiz as well as the source material it came from, he feels as if this could be the death of him.

* * *

It's few more hours till he receives a text from Katjaa saying the kid's bedtime had arrived and that she and her husband would be at the house soon. Luke knows the moment he comprehends her text that getting these hyper active kids to bed was going to be an issue, maybe not Sarah, but Duck and Clementine surely. Thankfully, they spend a few minutes begging and bribing him to let them stay up longer, but after a few failed attempts make their way up the stairs and into their bedrooms.

Duck's bedroom looks like something out of a fairytale, space themed; the room is painted in a navy blue with white dots sprinkled all along it to resemble the starry night sky, and his bedsheets and pillow cases show that of the solar system. Stuffed in a box in a corner, Luke can see a Saturn ornament meant to hang on the ceiling poking out of it, and he assumes that the rest of the planets in the solar system are in there as well, stuffed away because an aged Duck has likely grown out of it. This was the type of bedroom Luke dreamed of as a child, there was no doubt that Katjaa and her husband truly loved their son to pieces.

In a stark contrast, Clementine's room, which she is sharing with Sarah during her stay, is completely white, except for a spot in the corner which has a few gray strokes of paint on it that looks very old and dried, a small sign there may have been plans for the room once. Her prized skateboard that Luke knew all too well laid beside a small single bed mattress on the ground, an old dresser against the wall across from the bed, and a lengthy mirror barely leaning against the wall, looking as if it was about to slip, Luke can't help but adjust it once he enters the two girl's room. The room is fairly big, but the lack of furniture and items make it appear barren.

He saunters over to the dresser curiously, noticing a handful of small prize metals, a small pair of figure skates and a single trophy that Luke grasps a hold of gingerly. "This yours?"

"Yeah. First place…" Clementine utters proudly, gazing at the piece of metal in his hand nostalgically.

"Well, congratulations." He gives it a quick up and down glance before he returns it to its place.

"Clementine's really _really_ good, she ice skates all the time," Sarah adds quickly after, shimmying into the sleeping bag that she's placed near the younger girl's bed.

He can see a flush blur into Clementine's cheeks from her friend's praises, refusing to take the compliment when she continues. "I haven't performed competitively...or at all for that matter in...um, years...so, I'm probably lagging behind."

Luke frowns. "Really? Why not?"

"I mean...I do still skate. I have private lessons and all that...just…" Her face contorts similarly as to how it did before with Katjaa, and he notices her small hands ball into fists as they hold on to her blanket. "I have my reasons. But my coach, Christa, she's trying to convince me to get back into the game competitively, I'm not sure though."

"I hope you do, judging by all this-" he gestures to the figure skating awards scrambled across her dresser. "-you must have a talent."

"I agree!" Sarah chirps.

Clementine returns his reassuring smile with a weak one of her own before he leaves and heads downstairs.

For a majority of the night, he sits on the couch and continues to watch whatever happens to pop up on the television every half an hour. Most of his attention is on his phone, constantly checking for an update from Katjaa, or a text from Nick, who was probably back at home by now and wondering where the hell he was. He becomes a little anxious, just slightly, to the point he starts checking his phone every two minutes without realizing it.

Once he does, however, he leans over the leather couch and runs his fingers through his dusty brunette bangs. _You need to calm down_. He thinks to himself, if anything dire happened, Katjaa and Nick would have contacted him by now.

With a deep breath, Luke's earthy orbs focus on the guitar case near the door that he had brought to the house on a whim, he questions his resolve for a few moments, wondering if he should go through the trouble of taking out and tuning his guitar when Katjaa and her husband could walk in at any moment, but the musician in him pushes him off the couch till he unzips his baggy guitar case.

He hasn't touched the thing since he moved, scared to damage it but also at a loss for inspiration with the changes that he'd been confronting the last few weeks. His mouth slides into an easy smirk when he regains the familiar feeling of strumming on the nylon strings. Even though he's rusty, he tries his best to tune the guitar by his own instincts until he gets something that sounds right to him.

He plays with the strings at random, his fiddling sounding like a fractured song as he bounces around simple songs he knows in his brain by heart. Wonderwall is too typical...Good Riddance is too nostalgic…

"Luke?"

He makes a small yet slightly embarrassing yelp of surprise from the sudden presence, a few of the strings making an unpleasant, shrill sound from his sudden reaction.

He tilts his head around to see Clementine standing in the archway, staring back at him with warm owlish eyes, a thick white blanket draped around her that snakes across the floor as she takes a few more steps toward him.

"Clementine, what are you doing up?" Luke asks.

"I couldn't sleep…"

"Ah..." He utters in understanding, watching the girl shift awkwardly before patting the cushion beside him. "You can sit if ya want."

With a nod, she slithers along the hardwood floor in a way that's almost comical before plopping herself on the couch and curling into a ball. Her body is completely covered by blankets, only her face pokes out.

The room goes quiet and Luke goes back to playing with the strings at random but instead wonders whether he should talk to the girl or play as if she isn't there. A few brief glances show him Clementine staring at the black of the now turned off television, her eyes unblinking and most likely lost in thought. It may have been a trick of the eye, but he thinks he might see her irises watering at the rim. He doesn't want to disrupt her, but he doesn't want to sit there and not even offer himself as a source of comfort either.

He doesn't know this girl, well maybe he does, but for the short hours he's been around her she's made an impact on him, in a way. The small interaction from weeks ago could have easily gone long forgotten by him, leaving her an unrecognizable face once he came across her a second time, but he didn't. The second he set eyes on her the memory of their odd and maybe even awkward interaction that had somehow cheered him up in his miserable state came flooding into his mind. Even so, it isn't really enough to warrant him being nosy with her situation, asking questions or trying to touch on things he's ignorant of.

"You can play that?" She inquires then, nodding toward the instrument in his arms.

"The guitar? Yeah."

"Are you a musician? Is that your job?" She continues, beginning to hound him with questions.

Luke shrugs. "More of a hobby really, I thought about it when I was a kid but got myself a quick reality check."

"What happened?"

His lips purse as he gazes at her. "Life happened."

They both sit there for a long time, Luke checks his phone a few times again for messages but finds nothing each and every time except stupid youtube subscription notifications. He sighs and ends up getting lost in his own thoughts for awhile, memories about himself, Nick and his old dog, Duke, hanging out near his parent's old porch swing when they were young, his father on the fields day in day out, only returning to the house to have dinner and sleep before heading back out for the day.

 _Do you miss it?_ He asks himself then.

After a pause, he answers his own question.

 _No._

"Can you play a song?"

He turns his attentions to Clementine, his mind taking a few more seconds to process her words. "What?"

"Can you play a song?" She repeats in a slower pace.

He adjusts the guitar more firmly on his lap, smiling at her. "Well, depends, what do you want me to play?"

The girl doesn't even pause to consider his question. "I don't know, something good."

He snorts at her simplistic words and goes back to his thoughts on songs he knows how to play, other than Wonderwall and Good Riddance only one other song comes to mind for him.

"How about Chasing Cars?"

She perks up, a devious smirk on her face. "Chase what cars?"

He chuckles before speaking. "No, no, like the song, you know, by Snow Patrol."

She slouches back into her seat with a ' _thump'_ sound and shakes her head.

Luke gapes and exclaims. "Are you kidding? It's a classic!"

"If it's a classic then why don't I know it?"

He digs his fingers into the arm of the guitar. "Well, you're 'bout to."

He plays the intro and watches as Clementine shuffles and eventually relaxes beside him, watching his fingers strum the chords intently. He didn't consider himself much of a singer, but he tries his best.

 _We'll do it all_

 _Everything_

 _On our own_

 _We don't need_

 _Anything_

 _Or anyone_

 _If I lay here_

 _If I just lay here_

 _Would you lie with me_

 _And just forget the world?_

 _I don't quite know_

 _How to say_

 _How I feel_

 _Those three words_

 _Are said too much_

 _They're not enough_

 _If I lay here_

 _If I just lay here_

 _Would you lie with me_

 _And just forget the world?_

 _Forget what we're told_

 _Before we get too old_

 _Show me a garden_

 _That's bursting into life_

His voice slowly fades out and the brunette is shocked to hear the soft snoring of Clementine sleeping soundly in her blanket pile, having fallen asleep at some point during his playing. Not wanting to disrupt her, he decides to stop his strumming and ends the song early, placing the guitar back into its case as silently as he can well the headlights of a car signaling Katjaa's return beam through the window.


	2. II

A/N: Ayeeee! Look I finally got this done! A lot quicker than I expected and EXACTLY a month since chapter 1. (completely unplanned I promise. This is definitely not getting monthly updates lol I wish) I hope you guys enjoy this one, we're gonna be diving hard into the angst real soon. Thanks to all the people who have left reviews so far, I'm beyond happy to be getting positive feedback. This story is supposed to have 9 or 10 about 8000-10,000 word chapters, so just know that even if each chapter may take awhile, there will definitely be a bunch to read once they're finally out. Chapters are gonna get longer as they're published as well. Something I am a little worried about is that it might possibly affect the pacing to have so much put into one chapter, especially when I start implementing timeskips, If the pacing feels too fast in later chapters, feel free to let me know. I might start adding shorter chapters. (but shorter chapters means quicker updates!)

* * *

 **Review Responses** :

 **Guest:** (regarding Clementine's parents) I'm glad to know you're interested! Trust me, Clementine's parents will be directly addressed in later chapters.

 **TheAlphaofDarkness:** Thank you so much for the kind words! Reading this review really put a smile on my face. If things go as planned, I'm hoping to have some good FEELS coming in later chapters. I really really wanna finish this, it's fully outlined and really close to my heart, I've seen a lot of great twdg fanfictions that have been left on the wayside (especially Cluke fanfics, I feel your pain bro) and I really hope this won't become one of them. Wish me luck and thanks a ton for reviewing!

 **unnbrella:** Aaaa! Honestly, after seeing your suggestion to listen to Learning to Sleep in your Sarah and Clem fic, I was like "oh my goodness! I can do that!?" and immediately looked through my entire writing youtube playlist for some good ones to listen to AND suggest during this fanfic. I love figure skating, I've never figure skated in my life but I watch the figure skating part of the Winter Olympics religiously, there's something so beautiful and moving about ice skating for me. There will be a lot more attention brought to Clementine's figure skating in the future, it becomes HUGELY important to her character. Thank you so much for reviewing! It means a lot!

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Alcoholism, Ageism.

* * *

 **Playlist** :

1\. Bloom by The Paper Kites

2\. Life itself by Glass Animals

3\. All Good by Beatfux

4\. Oil and Water by Lorne

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 2

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Luke rolls around in his bed abruptly, face deep in his pillow as his hand searches his nightstand for the alarm clock. Desperate to bring the loud sound disrupting his sleep to an end, he knocks off beer cans, cups and picture frames until his hand grasps onto the offending item and presses the button to turn the thing off.

He finally raises his head from the sheets and is greeted by the bright sunlight that peeks through the curtains of his window, behind his closed door he can hear the sound of creaking floorboards and shutting doors, informing him that Nick was somehow already awake.

He lazily glances at the clock. It's 1:30 pm, he's overslept, thanks to how long he chose to stay up yesterday. Once Katjaa and Kenny returned to the house and he was sent home, Luke continued to search and play a few more songs on his guitar, all well being interrogated by Nick as to why the hell he'd spend the night babysitting a group of middle schoolers.

 _"It wasn't that bad, I don't hate kids like you do."_

 _"I don't hate kids! I'm...indifferent to them." Nick clarifies._

The sounds of moving around coming from outside his door became louder and more erratic, and shortly after glass shattering is heard in the next room over. He groans then, sitting up from his bed and figuring Nick had broken something during the short time he had been awake on his own.

However, before he can get out of his bed and change out of his polka dot pyjama pants, his roommate is calling for him. " _Luuuuuuke!_ " He shouts, long and drawn out.

He doesn't even have the chance to respond before the tall man is bursting through the door without warning. "Why are there _children_ in our house!"

Luke's dark eyebrows rise with his confusion and shock before he throws the blanket off himself and gets out of his bed, his first thought is that Nick is blowing something out of proportion. Considering the kids he saw play ball hockey on the street everyday, he wouldn't be surprised if a puck just happened to stumble upon their lawn during a game and a few of the kids had come to retrieve it. They weren't old men screaming _'get off mah lawn'_ at every adolescent they see, well, at least _he_ wasn't.

"You spend one night babysitting some kids and now they're popping up like fucking _Pokemon_ , I swear to god, Luke." Nick starts stomping out of the door with a scowl, Luke following him closely behind and hoping his old friend wasn't becoming the grump they had spent their childhoods complaining about after all these years.

But when Nick's marching comes to a halt at their spare room, and he whips open the door, he's awestruck to see Duck and Sarah sitting on their carpet, staring back at him with innocent wide eyes and Clementine sneaking through the window, hunched over their window sill, whose face turns into a troublemaking grin when she spots Luke's form in the doorway. He tries to form words, but he just ends up mumbling nonsense to himself well his childhood friend is pacing behind him, cursing under his breath.

Rather than an apology or explanation, Clementine snorts and giggles helplessly at the scene, to the point that her torso tips over the window sill and face plants into the ground without a care in the world. It's contagious, Sarah pulls a weak smile and Duck starts giggling lowly along with her, Luke can even feel his own laughter bubbling up deep in his throat, but tries to hold it back for the sake of an anxious Nick still at odds with the situation.

"Hi, Luke…" Clementine says breathlessly, her laughter slowly decreasing as she adjusts herself to sit cross-legged on his floor.

Luke regards them dryly, still trying to hide his amusement. "I'm not sure if y'all got the memo, but this is called breaking and entering, and it's kinda illegal."

"Not if the people are stupid enough to leave the window open." Clementine retorts, a clear jab at both of the men, but Luke smirks smugly when he rules it out as illogical.

"Nope. Still illegal."

"-and we didn't _break_ anything! So technically, we just entered, no breaking." Duck claims childishly, his facial expression shifts in realization for a second before he turns to an extra desk they left in the room, beside it on the ground is a broken lamp surrounded by broken pieces of glass. "Well, except that lamp, but it was ugly anyway."

Luke takes a sideways glance at Nick, a little relieved it wasn't the one responsible for the shattering of glass he heard in his room earlier, and making a mental note to himself to have more trust in the guy.

Sarah speaks sweetly. "We're sorry, but we missed you!"

"We were really bored…" Clementine explains.

"Oh hell no! Nuh uh!" Nick cuts in, clenching and unclenching his fists with unease, stopping and taking a few deep breaths to try and compose himself. "You're like what...ten?"

"Eleven."

"Excuse me but, we have better things to do than hanging out with a couple of eleven-year-olds, now if you'd all just-"

"Nick." Luke interrupts boldly.

" _What?_ "

Luke folds his arms, shaking his head. "Don't be like that, man."

Nick groans, glancing at Luke as if he'd just single-handedly went insane, turning his attention back to the three shortly after. "Don't you have a connect 4 to play with or something?"

She has no witty remark to reply with, but there's an enraged fire in Clementine's typically soft amber eyes that intimidated Luke ever so slightly, her lips pursed and face reddening, it's not hard to see that she isn't taking to Nick's belittling too kindly, the brunette can't blame her. _This isn't going to be an easy situation to come out of intact_ , he thinks to himself before a sudden rapid knocking is coming from his door, and Luke takes the first chance he can get to escape the situation, jogging down the hall to their front door.

Nick rolls his eyes. "This better not be the rest of your gang."

He opens the door and is met with Kenny, the man he had only seen for a short period of time yesterday, the splint around his broken wrist and forearm, a result of his car accident, hangs loosely, patches of dirt and grime painted on the thick material. His injury doesn't give him any placidity, nose flaring from above his thick graying mustache and jaw clenched, Katjaa stands behind him, her still form and weariness contrasting that of her husband's obvious frustration.

After a few seconds of simple staring between the two groups, Kenny finally speaks. "Is Duck in here?" Oh, Great. "And-uh...Clem and Sarah...God- _fucking_ -dammit."

Looking past the father's aggressiveness, Luke can see his worried unease. "Yeah, yeah, come in."

Kenny nearly shoves past Luke after his confirmation, Nick is still standing in the hall with a hand on his hip with an unpleasant frown, turning to finally notice the distressed parent. His movements stop, and he practically turns into a statue, his azure eyes wide and fearful. He moves from the doorway and clears a path for Kenny, who stomps into the room before Luke can do anything to rescue the young children, who had attached themselves to him in their short period of time spent together, from the fury that was a terrified parent.

After a few seconds, Clementine, Duck, and Sarah, with heads hung low, are following the grumbling Kenny into the living room. "I cannot _believe_ you three!"

Katjaa slowly trudges up to stand beside Luke, standing slightly behind Kenny as he berates them for being so inconsiderate. He observes the scene with an empathetic eye, having been a child in the exact same situation dozens of times, well...maybe not the exact same, he and Nick were reckless kids but not even they had the carefree attitude to break into someone's house and act innocent and kind about it. Even so, he makes no attempt to intervene, he may not be able to relate to the life of a parent, however, he has the most minor of understanding to Kenny's emotions to be able to let it go without a word of protest.

"Duck, I am _especially_ disappointed in you, Clementine's always run off on her own without a word since we've had her, but _you?_ I thought you were better than that." Although his main attention is on discipling his son, there are obvious insults implied toward Clementine in his words, he shakes his head before he continues. "Katjaa told y'all specifically not to bother our neighbours. The world ain't revolve around you! People have lives, responsibilities-"

Duck can't even face his father, his wooden eyes stare straight down at his sneakers, his feet tapping against each other guiltily. Clementine on the other hand, stands in a surprisingly composed manner, but her mouth is still hung in a frown of remorse. Sarah, yet to be even mentioned, shakes and trembles, tears brimming in her eyes easily. Katjaa is quick to console her, the girl too sensitive to endure Kenny's shouting, hugging her and rubbing her back softly well the older man proceeds to rip into the other two children.

Luke doesn't know what comes over him. "Um…'scuse me, Kenny?"

Kenny briefly takes a moment to organize himself, plastering on a fake smile. "Luke, right? I'm real sorry for my son and his friend's disrespect, I won't let 'em bother ya any longer."

"I-" What are you doing? "I...apologize as well, ya see…"

He falters, just for a moment, but his eyes catch Clementine's wide amber hues, with specs of hazel that flicker like a calming heartbeat, whether intentionally or not, it urges him to fulfill his impulsive resolve.

"I asked them to come here."

"What?"

Nick, watching from a distance, narrows his eyes as he catches his friend's lie. When he gains Luke's attention, he slumps over and gives him a look that says _'what the fuck are you doing?'_

Honestly...he doesn't know. "I saw them hangin' around the streets, seemed rather downtrodden, ya know? I didn't have much to do today...I didn't realize it would start such a ruckus." He brings his hand to rub the back of his neck, a nervous quirk of his. "Sorry, really..."

Wait, did that sound creepy? He second guesses himself, inviting children into my house...yeah...that's pretty creepy, nice going, Luke. Kenny and Katjaa share a thoughtful look with one another, and he notices the twitch of a smile on the blonde woman from the corner of his eye.

Katjaa speaks then. "You three still aren't off the hook, but I suppose we can cut Kenny's lecture short-" Kenny's face contorts in a way that shows he clearly has a lot more to say about the three children's actions, but Katjaa glares back at him bravely, eyes like daggers. "-we _are_ in someone else's house, this is a private matter and we are greatly overstaying our welcome, forgive our terrible manners, Luke…" She pauses, glancing off at Nick. "And-?"

"Nick." His friend says.

"Luke and Nick…" She smiles kindly. "Kenny, send the kids home, please... _calmly_."

A much more placid Sarah is released from Katjaa's comforting embrace, following Kenny's retreating form, Duck raises his head enough for his expression to be visible, still gloomy of his father's prior words, Luke hopes he'd aided the situation for him, even if it was only a little.

Clementine lingers for a few moments, waiting for Luke's eyes to reach her and when they finally do, with a mess of dark curls framing her face, she smiles.

* * *

When the door of his house shuts gently, Nick leaves to his room in a bit of a huff, and Luke can only watch as he disappears around the corner.

Katjaa, the only one of the dysfunctional family who remains within the house, turns to him. "You lied." She states, not an ounce of bother in her tone, in fact, she sounds quite pleased.

"Um...I..."

"They're almost always in the house, they don't go in the streets, the kids who do don't take too kindly to the three of them, we had a bullying incident not long ago and- well, they've stayed clear ever since."

Luke frowns, knowing the experience all too well, Nick was bullied fiercely in their childhood, and even though Luke was given his fair share of insults and punches, they didn't affect him the same way it did Nick. Luckily by the time they became teenagers, Luke was well liked by most of his peers, finding his way into all the cliques, he'd play football with 'the dickhead jocks' before school, dungeons and dragons with 'the nerds' during lunch, and he'd joke and drink with 'the druggies' after school. Although Nick was nowhere near as social, his close association with Luke left him respected by those who in the past, would've berated him. He still didn't get out of highschool unscathed, sometimes Nick just wanted a fight, there was nothing Luke could really do about it.

He pulls himself out of the nostalgia, and nods. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Katjaa lets out a mild chuckle. "I'm just glad it's over, Clementine came home one day with her last skateboard snapped in half and Duck crying hysterically beside her. Then suddenly we got a call from one of the kid's parents, both lawyers, claiming that Clementine had beat him up with her skateboard and that they planned to sue for 'emotional trauma.' Then Kenny threatened to sue for property damage on Clementine's skateboard." The woman let out a long sigh before continuing. "Eventually we came to an agreement that as long as the two groups stayed away from eachother, all would be well, no lawsuits."

Luke can barely hold back his laughter, a perfect picture being painted in his mind of the incident and the pure ridiculousness of it all. "Sounds like it was a mess."

"It was," Katjaa says, getting their conversation back on track. "Why did you lie for them? I'm not...mad or anything, just curious."

He crosses his arms, not even sure of the answer himself, he simply says the first thoughts that pop into his head. "I don't know...just...they looked real sad, ya know? Couldn't help but feel bad. I mean, I know what they did was wrong and all, but-" He loses his words then, forgetting where he was going with his explanation and shrugs. "I just did it."

Katjaa's passive expression melds into one of understanding as she smiles. "I was worried about you looking after them last night, but If you couldn't tell, they think you're a good guy."

"Well...They're good kids."

The older woman's jaw clenches slightly. "Which is why I was wondering if maybe...you'd be willing to do it again?"

When he relays the same conversation to Nick a couple days later, offering the chance to come with him if he'd like, his reaction isn't pleasant. "Fuck that, you are not forcing me to hang out with those kids."

Luke frowns as he raises his hands in feigned surrender. "Woah, okay, okay, gotcha, it was just an offer."

Nick scoffs tiredly, slamming his back into their couch in a fit of anger. Luke wasn't sure what to make of him, his old friend had always been an easily agitated guy, but not overly so to the point it was impossible to endure, at least for Luke. He's sure the move has been swirling a ton of emotion in him, he hopes he'll adjust, the small voice in his head, on the other hand, tells him he's being selfish by throwing his friend into a new environment and life he never wanted to be a part of. That thought is the only thing that keeps him from responding bitterly to Nick's abrasive attitude. He used to think that maybe he was a forbearing person, but right now, he's certain he is.

He slowly moves to take the seat beside him, glancing at his friend who is very poorly avoiding his gaze. "What's wrong, Nick?"

There's reluctance, of course there is, he expects it, but as always with their friendship, Nick is willing to open up. Nick wasn't the type to talk about personal matters or emotions with people, well, unless he was really drunk, but Luke is one of those rare people who's able to pull his honest feelings out of him.

"Mom, uncle Pete, Mike, Bonnie...I just...miss everyone." He admits quietly.

Luke sighs, even if he had expected it, he's still disappointed...and not in Nick. "I'm sure you do, I'm sorry."

"It's just-" Nick's face crunches up with frustration, while Luke nibbles at his lip in anticipation and worry. "-are we really that lonely and desperate that our only friends are gonna be a couple of middle schoolers?"

Luke grins. "Don't you mean I'm the one desperate and lonely enough to become friends with middle schoolers? I honestly thought you and Clementine were seconds away from gettin' in a scrap a few days ago…"

Nick doesn't even make an attempt at forcing a smile.

He searches his mind, hoping to find some sort of reasoning within himself for his willingness to bond with them. Maybe it was odd, he couldn't blame Nick for being puzzled by it. Even with the age difference, he just, liked being around them, it was simple as that. The little childish things the group would do that fills Luke with memories of his past, when he was as joyful as a kid could be, when everything was just-easier. Maybe it's immature, but he misses that, a lot more than he thought he did.

"Things will fall into place soon, we just gotta give it a little time, trust me."

* * *

"Two size 5s, a size 6, a size 10 and a size 12, please."

He had no idea how he managed it, but he did, because instead of holing up in their house and getting drunk, Nick is slouched beside him with folded arms as they wait by the front desk to receive their ice skates. The three kids have gone off to buy things from the vending machine they spotted at the front.

He's been babysitting Clementine, Duck, and Sarah almost daily for the past week, taking the place of their old babysitter, Sandra, who the three made apparent they weren't very fond of. He tried his best to prevent it from becoming a daily occurrence, the whole babysitting thing, but it doesn't even hit him how much he's been spending over at the house until Nick corners him one night, ranting about how little he's seen him, pissed as per usual, Luke rage had yet to be fueled enough to cause a upburst, but he made his irritation with his friend very clear that night. He expected Nick to be avoiding him when he woke up the next morning, and he wasn't wrong, but by the time evening had rolled around, and he announced that he'd be babysitting again, Nick stands up from his spot on the couch and asks if he can come, using his boredom as his excuse.

It's Sarah's idea to go to the skating rink, and he automatically goes along with her plan, because after all the tidbits of information he's gotten of Clementine's super secret figure skating prowess, he's beyond eager to see it for himself. With round chestnut eyes, Sarah makes Luke promise not to tell Clementine with a customary pinky swear, resulting in a hounding of questions from Duck and Clementine when he refuses to tell them where he's driving them to.

"He's kidnapping us!" Duck shouts dramatically, a hopeless attempt to pull Luke into giving him answers.

Clementine exhales onto the back seat's left window, waiting for the hot air to cloud up the window as she spells out _'HELP'_ in bold misshapen letters.

"It's a surprise, you'll like it, trust me." He says, hoping it will ease the hectic situation.

"That sounds like something a murderer would say." Clementine cuts in.

As they inch closer and closer to their destination, he peeks at the rearview mirror repeatedly, keen to see Clementine's face switch from dullness to realization. It starts with an arched eyebrow, then the hand that holds her chin slowly drops, along with her jaw.

"Ta-da!" Sarah exclaims cheerfully as Luke turns Katjaa's old car into the parking lot.

"Are you serious?" Suddenly the expression of amazement turns sour. "Sa- _rahhhhh_ ," Clementine whines.

"It's been _so_ long since I've seen you skate! Please, Clem?"

She doesn't budge, adjusting her spot in the backseat as she crosses her arms and stares longingly out the window, and Luke's grip on the leather steering wheel tightens, unpleasantly surprised by the reaction the little girl had gave him. He'd thought she'd be excited, her figure skating wasn't brought up often, but when it was, she appeared passionate and fond of it, she went to classes every single day after all.

"-Clementine?" Sarah is shuffling behind them, moving closer toward Clementine until a single hand is touching her tiny shoulder.

"Stop!" Clementine pulls away roughly, her demeanor that which Luke has luckily never had the chance to really see till now, and Sarah is the last person he would suspect it'd be directed at.

For a split second, Luke and Nick make eye contact, likely both having the same thought. Should they turn around? Even if they had come all this way for nothing, he didn't want to see anyone unhappy, or fighting for that matter.

But Clementine refutes that idea. "Fine. Let's go."

Luke moves the car aimlessly around the parking lot, befuddled by the situation and unaware on how he should proceed, he's about to ask Clementine and the others for a confirmation before the young girl is releasing her seatbelt as she complains about how slow he's being and that he's already passed five free parking spots.

"Hurry up, before they break into another house." Nick quips dryly, holding onto all of the skates besides Luke's.

He turns around and immediately spots the three in the distance, not far from them, talking amongst themselves as they eye the clear window of the vending machine, displaying all kinds of chocolates and sweets. Duck must have been quick to make a decision, a chocolate bar already snug in his hand, Sarah and Clementine meanwhile seem to be taking their time.

"We're not here for the sweets," Luke announces as he approaches them.

"Yeah, just pick," Nick adds.

Clementine glances at the two men from over her shoulder. "I don't know what to get."

Sarah puts a coin into the slot and presses the key, the machine dispenses some kind of no-name gummy snacks, he can't help but wonder why she would choose that over all the chocolate and candy, but he doesn't take the time to inquire her about it.

Luke points at one of the rows. "Well, there's skittles. Ever had em? I like skittles."

"You do?"

"Yep."

The younger girl returns her sight to the brightly lit window, her golden eyes follow his pointed finger and click the corresponding button not long after, watching as the skittles are pushed from its column and fall down to the slot.

The five of them sit on the sidelines, putting on their ice skates while Luke silently prays that they'll all be the right size, cause the line at the front desk seems to get longer and longer every time he looks over at it.

When everyone is set and ready, Nick's form suddenly tenses beside him. "Luke, I've never ice skated before."

He's taken aback by that, even he's had enough experience ice skating at public arenas or ponds to be able to move around the ice without looking like a complete idiot. Nick isn't so lucky it seems, and although he pities the irrefutable fact he's going to embarrass himself, he isn't going to miss a chance to tease him. "Looks like Clementine over here's gon' hafta teach ya."

It was a joke, he swears it was, but Clementine, the 11-year-old who had glared at Nick as if she wanted to bite his hand off just a couple weeks ago, ends up taking it upon herself to seriously teach Nick the basics of ice skating.

"Stop walking on the ice, just let yourself glide." She instructs.

"That's what I'm doing!"

"You're literally marching on the ice! And stand up straight, you look constipated."

Luke snorts from behind them, Sarah and Duck sharing a few giggles of their own beside him.

Nick whips his head to glare daggers at their three observers, for a moment, Luke feels just the slightest bit guilty, but that remorse goes away the second Nick swerves around, sliding away from Clementine and over to Luke. Roughhousing was now in order. "You little fu-"

"Nick!" Clementine shouts.

"Not now, kid-"

"You're skating!"

Just then, as if on cue, Nick's skate bumps into Luke's, causing both men's ankles to twist and lose their balance as they both fall on either side on the chilled ice with a loud crash, leading the other guests to turn their attention over to the two of them.

"-Nevermind."

It may have been about half an hour until Clementine told him she was done skating for the night and sat over on one of the benches on the sidelines. Luke holds back from giving her any reaction, knowing that if he does his own disappointment and shattered expectations are bound to leak into it.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't thrilled at the idea of seeing Clementine skate, you know, like a trained figure skater, but he knows that she has no desire to start twirling and jumping around the ice like Sarah had most likely hoped, and he isn't about to force her back onto the ice to show him a...ice jump thingy. An axel or whatever it was called. The majority of her time on the ice had been spent giving Nick a bootleg lesson on skating, and whenever Nick wanted to take a break, she simply skated alongside the rest of their group and made small talk. She seems to be having an entertaining time, and that's all he can ask for, really.

After remaining on the ice with the others for a couple more minutes, he eventually glides over to the exit and ventures toward the guarded benches she's sitting by. She's sitting there with eyes trained on the rink, but they don't seem to pinpoint on anyone on the ice in particular, instead, she appears off in space with her thoughts.

"Hey, kid."

Her neck moves robotically as she shifts her attention over to him, standing a fair distance away from her. "Oh, hi."

He sends a small smile her way as he walks closer and plants himself beside her. "What are you up to over here?"

"Not much, you didn't have to leave, it's not like I'm going to run off somewhere."

His smile stretches into a grin, regarding her with an arched brow and echoing the words she'd said to him earlier in the evening. "Yeah, sounds like something someone who's gonna run off would say." She narrows her eyes at him, and Luke gives her a playful slap on the shoulder. "Nah, I wanted to take a break and check up on ya. I'm surprised you didn't skate."

"I did skate though."

Luke frowns. "You know what I mean."

"Well, I was busy helping your friend. Who by the way-" She points toward Nick, who is, once again, stiffly rubbing his skates on the ice like some kind of toddler. "-still looks like an idiot."

"He tries," Luke responds with a sympathetic smile as he observes his friend hopeless effort, as well as Sarah and Duck's poor attempts at support. "Mighta been a lil' bit cruel to leave him on his own with Sarah and Duck."

"It's better than- _Wait!_ Before I forget!" She interrupts herself suddenly, reaching into her small bag, lavender with flower stickers plastered over it, a little too childish for her age, but who is he to judge?

In her hand is the vibrant red bag of skittles she had bought, she extends it toward him in an offering, but he waves it off. "No, no, that's yours."

Her amber eyes widen for a moment, she brings the candies back to herself, glancing from the bag of skittles in her hand and over to him. "I..." she offers it to him a second time. "I don't even like candy."

"What? Why'd you buy it then?"

"You said you liked it..." she says shyly, faltering slightly.

His eyebrows rise as he comprehends exactly what she meant. "Clementine, I gave you the money to buy something for yourself, you didn't have to buy something for me." He reaches into his coat pocket. "I might have some more change for you to use..."

"No! I...I wanted to buy something for you."

Luke stops his search and stares at her, dumbfounded.

She looks back to the ice as she speaks. "I mean, I know it's technically not buying you anything, cause it was...your money, but..." She paused, getting lost in her own words, she closes her eyes in defeat and extends the item closer to him again. "Please just take it."

So he does, he knows she's too stubborn to let it go, and besides, she wasn't ever gonna eat them herself. He hovers his hand slightly below hers as she drops it into his palm. He examines the bold white text of the logo and runs his thumb along the plastic, feeling the tiny balls of sugar rolling around on the inside. "Thanks, Clem, that's real nice of ya."

"It's for being such a good friend." She mumbles cheerfully, he isn't used to her being this warm and fuzzy with him, but he wasn't gonna stop her for a second.

"Mhm? Keep going." He teases.

"Sorry, you're kinda useless when it comes to everything else."

He gave her a light-hearted shove, one which she returned twice as hard, he almost fell backward. When their combined laughter came to an end, he felt his mind twist into pessimism as he thought of the inevitable. As much fun as it was, babysitting this group of quirky kids, it wouldn't be long until he'd find an actual job and not have the time for it, and with that move out of the shabby neighbourhood house that brought them so close together. The reality of the situation was that, at one point, he was going to cut ties with them, and likely never see them again.

As he takes a quick glance over at the young girl, still watching the rink intently, the bag of skittles still in his sweaty grasp, he wonders if she realizes that fact as well.

"You know I'm not gonna be around forever, right?"

She visibly flinches, but her calm expression only twitches slightly, expressing no form of shock. "I know...nothing lasts forever." She moves to face him, the once glimmering gold in her eyes darkening. "No one lasts forever."

There's a pain in her voice, he's overtaken by shame, wishing to himself he had never brought it up, he hadn't expected such an eerie reaction. "Yeah, that's...true, sadly." he isn't able to say any more than that.

The tone of their conversation shifts, as Clementine pulls up a smile and stands up from her spot on the bench, moving so that she's standing in front of him, a hand on her hip and the other nearly poking him the forehead as she points at him. " _Remember my name, because soon I'll be on your television screen with an Olympic gold medal around my neck!_ " She exclaims confidently, almost as if it were rehearsed.

He stares up at her in astonishment, both from her out of character mood and the overdramatic proclamation, but once he's over that, he can't help but smile.

"Gotcha, Clem."

* * *

Howe's Hardware is the place he finally lands a job at.

His boss, Bill-or _Carver_ as he forced Luke to call him, is a dick, most days he feels like his punch bag, but the paycheck is pretty damn superb (if superb meant two dollars over minimum wage) for a job that required little to no experience. Even better, Nick gets a call back from them in the same month, and they go on to work alongside each other, befriending two of his co-workers, Vince and Russell, in the first couple of days. Besides the issues with his boss, Luke couldn't hope for anything better.

He hates having to leave the voicemail on Kenny and Katjaa's inbox, announcing to them that he'll no longer be able to take care of Clementine and Duck when they work. They never got back to him, but he suspects they've since brought the teenage girl, Sandra, back as their new babysitter. He wishes he had had the guts to tell the two kids himself, but after the way he had seen Clementine react to him even bringing up the idea, he can't bring himself to do it, a cowardly decision even Nick berates him for.

Taking sips of the rum he and Nick had bought earlier that day, Luke's eyes stare at the brightly lit up screen of his laptop, but his mind is elsewhere. Ever since his short stint as their babysitter ended, Luke didn't often pay mind to Clementine, Duck or Sarah in his everyday life, but when he came across that tiny thing that would remind him of them, prominently something Harry Potter, skateboarding or ice skating related, he'd sink into his own thoughts of guilt about the way things were left between them. He's certain he's overthinking these things, they'd likely long forgotten of his short existence within their life, but it doesn't stop him.

It's late into the night when he hears a knock at the front door, causing him to place his laptop on the stained wooden coffee table. His sluggish hand turns the janky knob, he expects to meet the familiar vibrant blue gaze of his childhood friend, but he doesn't.

It's Clementine, standing there as she fidgets with her own fingers, shades of grey shape her under eyes in a way that makes her look a few years older than she is. With a deep frown that compresses the rest of her features, Luke can tell that something is wrong, but he doesn't have the time to ask what till her raspy voice asks a single question.

"Do you...remember that song?"

After leaving a text to Katjaa, because he honestly can't expect Clementine to have let them know she had come over there, he starts boiling water for a coffee and hot chocolate. The dryness in her voice as she speaks to him gives him the feeling she's starting to lose her voice, an idea that baffles him with her (if she wasn't arguing about Harry Potter houses) tepid nature. She wasn't a girl with much to say, but when she did have something to say, she made sure he knew it.

After ignoring a question he asks regarding her health, she leans over his couch to focus on his laptop. "What are you writing?"

He decides not to pry. "I wouldn't really call that _'writing.'_ "

"Are you writing a Yelp review?"

"Yep! For those fuc-" A pause. "- _losers_ from the gardening place that rejected me a month or so ago."

She cringes, her eyes in an unamused squint as she looks toward him. "That's really sad, Luke. It's like...four paragraphs! I think I should be the one asking if you're okay."

"Hey! If you want me to play the guitar for you, ya gotta be nice." He instructs as he reaches into one of the top cupboards, to which he receives an eye roll as the girl climbs over the couch to sit on it.

Without a single word of warning, she slides the laptop onto her lap and continues to read the review to herself quietly. As he places the two mugs on his counters, he rushes over to the other side of the room. "Hey! Jesus, don't read it!"

"Is writing things your job?"

Luke's face pinches at the thought. "No! I work at a hardware store."

"It reminds me of one of those books they make you read every year in class, you know...if they were about shitty flower plants and asshole managers."

He hears the sound of the kettle steaming and returns to his place in the kitchen, filling his own mug with instant coffee and Clementine's with the cocoa. She sends a tiny smile his way when she takes the mug from him, saying a quick thank you before she complains about burning her tongue after taking a sip far too soon. Meanwhile, he grabs his guitar case from his room and brings it into the living room, he awaits Clementine's reaction, but she seems to barely notice he's there as she sips on her drink. Her face low once again, reinstating Luke's previous worries.

But she speaks before he can relay these thoughts to her. "Today was Duck's Birthday."

"Oh. Well, uh, tell him I said Happy Birthday."

"Sure." She says. "Kenny and Katjaa spent the whole day looking at old photos of him when he was a baby, I was about to suffocate in all the family love."

Luke grinned. "At least they weren't showing off any of your baby pictures, would've been real embarrassing."

"They don't have any baby pictures of me anyway."

He feels a deep pit of regret settle in his stomach, wishing he had thought about his words before saying them.

Clementine's an adopted child, a fact that didn't often click for him, as stupid as that may sound. Where he used to live, in rural Tennesse, the idea of a child being adopted and raised by someone who wasn't related to them biologically was unheard of. He hadn't heard of the phenomenon until he was at least thirteen and started consuming media of children with dead or absent parents. He'd never met someone who had gone through the adoption process, it was probably best he was meeting someone as he was now rather than in his childhood, cause he could easily imagine his younger self having a ton of questions that he wouldn't have the proper manners to keep to himself. Such as asking what it's like without blood relatives, or why they were put up for adoption in the first place. Even though questions like that cross his mind, he would never dare utter them to her. He had much more common knowledge now and was well aware of the various reasons a child would be put up for adoption, as well as the insensitivity of questioning them about their biological family.

"I wish they did though. I don't know why it'd be embarrassing, it seems...sweet."

Luke makes an attempt to fix the situation. "It is! Just, I dunno, it can be a lil' weird I guess."

"That makes sense, I think. It's probably just one of those things I won't ever really understand." She starts fiddling and shifting around her spot again, her eyes not meeting his. "Like, sometimes Duck gets so mad at them that...he tells them he hates them. I talked about it with Kenny later and he told me that it's 'just the hormones' and that 'it's pretty normal.'"

"Yeah, honestly, it is. I can remember a ton of times I told my parents I hated them."

Clementine seems shocked at that, her eyes set on him as they widen. "But...why would he say something like that? Katjaa and Kenny love him, they do a lot for him. What if something happened to them? He'd be hopeless!"

Luke places a gentle hand on her shoulder as his lips curve into a reassuring smile. "He doesn't mean it, Clem. Most don't when they say stuff like that. That type of thing really gotta be earned."

Clementine glances at the broad hand that lays on her shoulder, before her eyes wander for a few moments, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. She shrugs with a sigh of defeat. "I still don't get it."

"Don't worry, ain't nothing wrong with that. You'll get it, one day." Luke brings his hand back on his lap and takes another gulp of his coffee. "I'm sure you've been mad at your parents before."

With his last comment, her face falls and Luke promptly realizes he's said something wrong. "Yeah, I used to get mad at them a lot, but I shouldn't have. I regret it more than anything."

He doesn't understand what about his words caused it, but without a doubt, he had upset her, he wanted to punch himself in the face for his lack of eloquence, but instead, his hands ball into fists in his lap.

She takes a sharp inhale of breath. "Oh... _Oh_ , you meant Kenny and Katjaa, didn't you?" Her stiff form relaxes as she rests against the head of the couch. "I don't really consider them my parents. I'm grateful to them and they mean a lot to me, but they've always been Kenny and Katjaa to me, not... _Mom and Dad_."

"Ah. I see." He figures it's best to leave the subject there, not wanting to continue to the endless stream of screw-ups, and unzips his guitar case. "You ready to 'Chase cars?'" He jokes.

Her head raises as her gazes switches from her lap to the instrument he picks up and holds tenderly in his hands. Her smile is in its own way, subtle, but all at once filled with a bright enthusiasm, with those amber orbs that flicker back to his face, she nods fervently.

* * *

Just like the last time he played the song for her, she's out before he can bring the song to an end, and he doesn't complete the song or start strumming the chords to any other in case it could wake her from her slumber. Judging by her mood when she had arrived there, she probably needed the rest, hopefully it would rejuvenate her, even if it were only slightly.

When the two arrive to retrieve her, Katjaa lightly chuckles at the scene before them while Kenny carefully shifts Clementine's tiny body over slightly till she drops into his arms. With her head laid against his chest, Kenny only nods at him before leaving the house with slow, soothing steps as to not disturb the young girl in his arms.

"Can't seem to get away from our family, can you?" The blonde woman quips.

Luke snorts, she had a point there. "Guess not."


	3. III

A/N: Got another quick update from me! I'm gonna try to cherish this well I can. This chapter was actually a little hard to write for me. I found myself second guessing my words a lot, and trying to approach a romantic relationship with an age gap is just tough, even if at this current moment it is a one-sided thing, it makes me constantly worried what I'm gonna write something that ends up rubbing someone the wrong way. Please take some of the things I write with a grain of salt. If there's anything you feel like a word oddly then please feel free to let me know. Any honest criticisms for this chapter, and any chapters for that matter are welcome! Not just with the way I'm choosing to approach the Cluke storyline, but with any of my writing or plot. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **unnbrella:** Like I've told you before, I really respect your willingness to read this despite not being a fan of Cluke. A lot of people get super defensive and stubborn when it comes to shipping, including myself at one point, unfortunately. Thanks for the support! I always get so excited whenever I see that you've reviewed! Also glad that you're enjoying Clem, Duck, and Sarah! I was worried about writing a group of characters that most people tend to be indifferent to, in case people found them annoying. (except Clem lol everyone loves Clem)

 **Guest:** Once again, happy to hear the love for Sarah, Duck, and Clem! Sarah and Duck's roles are less prominent in the future, but seeing people being a fan of them, I'll try to have a little bit more of their dynamic featured in later chapters. I'm glad you're enjoying it, thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Alcoholism

* * *

 **Playlist:**

1\. So Long by Steady Holiday

2\. Pretty Face by Soley

3\. New Girl by The Walters

4\. Feelings Are Fatal by mxmtoon

5\. I Can Almost See You by Hammock

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 3

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

A couple weeks after Clementine's surprise visit, Katjaa arrives at the house early in the morning before her work. Luke's hair is a mess that obscures a large portion of his vision, and in celebration of October, he's wearing embarrassingly adorable Halloween themed pajamas pants sprinkled with little pumpkins and black cats. Nick had told him outright how foolish they made him look. Still, he wore them with pride and confidence, but when he stood in front of the veterinarian, he realized that his friend might have had a point.

Well, shame on him for wanting to be festive.

He could see from the way she gazed up and down at him with her mouth twitching into a grin that his attire was indeed amusing, and likely ruined the mature perception he'd been trying to uphold for the neighbourhood.

Nevertheless, she bites on her lip and tries to keep her expression calm and collected as her hand, carrying an array of fifty and twenty dollar bills, is held out toward him.

He grasps onto the pieces of paper, the pieces of paper that could single-handedly save someone's life in many circumstances. He counts it up to a little more than a thousand dollars and he's left staring at the funds with nothing to say.

"For the babysitting, we never paid you," Katjaa says to fill the silence, smiling gently.

He tries to find the words of gratitude in his mind, a thousand things he could say but never would they express his true feelings of complete shock. And as he stands there trying to figure out his own head, something hits him, and his hand grips harder onto the money he feels will never belong to him. Luke went with his gut when it came to a lot of things, this was no exception.

It didn't feel right. "I...can't take this."

Katjaa is left standing there in utter bewilderment as he hands the money back to her, she tries to convince him to take it, saying that he's earned it, but they debate back and forth until the older woman finally gives up and takes it back.

For his thirteenth birthday, Duck had been gifted a cellphone. When Luke had visited the house across the road with intentions of discussing buying Kenny's old truck off him, Duck is jumping up and down begging to exchange numbers. A couple months after that he discovers Clementine's birthday has passed with a phone of her own as well. She tends to text him during the evening and late into the night, often he'd wake up to a flurry of notifications from her, texting him after he had long fallen asleep. Sleep was an issue for her, that much was clear.

One day, in particular, she starts discussing her figure skating with him and reveals that her local figure skating club is holding a skating show that she planned on participating in, and asks him if he'd like to come.

There's a fee, but he pays no mind to it, her messages drip with a mixture of pride, passion, and anxiety, and even though she tries to be casual with inviting him, he can tell she really wants him to come. A few days before, she starts messaging him on a daily basis, eager for confirmation on whether or not he still plans on coming.

The show starts fairly early, and Luke makes an attempt at heading to bed at an earlier time than usual, but not before the phone on his nightstand lights up.

[11:10pm]

 _Clementine: You know the figure skating show is_ tmrw _, right?_

 _Luke: Yes, you're gonna have to get up early._

 _Clementine: yeah, Katjaa sent me to bed an hour ago._

 _Luke: Can't sleep?_

 _Clementine: no_

 _Clementine: this is gonna be the first time I've performed in 2 years._

 _Luke: I'm sure everything will turn out okay._

 _Clementine: what if I fall and look like an idiot?_

 _Clementine: or_ i _start crying in the middle of it._

 _Luke: If you fall then you get back up and keep going._

 _Luke: And crying?_

 _Clementine: It's a thing that's been happening to me lately. it's hard to explain._

 _Luke: Oh._

 _Luke: Well, figure skaters cry during routines all the time._

 _Clementine: Yeah but they're usually in the Olympics and they're also really good._

 _Luke: Who's to say you aren't really good?_

 _Clementine: I'm not._

 _Clementine: I'm really scared. Sjdhshhdjd I hate this._

 _Luke: Listen, Clem, no matter what happens, we'll all be cheering for you and we'll all be proud of you._

 _Clementine: you gotta cheer and do a standing ovation ok? Even if I look really stupid._

 _Luke: You won't._

He sleeps through his alarm the next day. The brunette practically falls out of his bed the second he wakes up and comprehends how late into the day it already is. He brushes his teeth as he puts on his pants and brushes his hair while in the car, his movements so blunt and rushed that dozens of strands of chestnut hair stick to the shoulders of his sweater. When he arrives, he hopes and prays that he hasn't missed Clementine's performance, bolting through the doors and nearly tripping over himself as he speeds through the halls.

It's a nice looking place, large and expansive with multiple rinks. From the entrance, the wall far in front of him is made mostly of clear windows, and as he gets closer, he can see the empty ice rink and the multiple faces that occupy the bleachers. If worst comes to worst, he can just stand out here and watch the skaters from the windows. From the looks of it, it seems the show is just seconds from beginning, and he's beyond thankful. He and Clementine have always been on friendly terms, and he doesn't want to imagine someone as peaceful and open-minded as her holding something against him.

"Luke!" He hears the familiar voice from behind him, and as he goes to turn to her, the short girl is already hugging the bottom half of him. "I was scared you weren't gonna show up!"

She releases herself from him before he can return the hug and she steps back, allowing him to get a good look of her new outfit. If it weren't for her actions, she'd be unrecognizable to him. The hair typically tied in pigtails and covered by a hat is down to her chin and neck, kept out of her face by a baby blue headband. The baby blue matches that of her athletic jacket, that seems to be covering the top half of her performance outfit, but he can still see a blue and white skirt covered in glimmering jewels and sparkles. All of her casual attire fulfilled that of the typical tomboy, dirty jeans and oversized shirts, and it's new for him to see her in anything different.

"I never thought I'd see you in-"

"Don't say it!" She retorts. "I know what you're gonna say and you better not."

"Fine." He huffs dramatically. "Sorry for being late."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're here." Clementine gazes over her shoulder at the short middle-aged man standing behind her. "Now Jane's just gotta get here and then I'll finally be ready to go."

He can see the way the tanned man's face tenses, letting out a sigh. "If Jane doesn't show up, you'll still have to go, Clem, you know that."

"I know." She whines, her eyes narrowing on the man before she pushes her lips back into a smile. "Luke, this is Omid, he helps Christa out at the skating rink."

"Can't ice skate for shit, though." Omid jokes, his somber and exhausted expression turning into a smile as he greets the young man. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem, wouldn't miss out on getting to see this prized skater." He says, grinning toward the young girl in question.

Clementine rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

"Can I ask who this _'Jane'_ gal is?"

Clementine's expression brightens at the inquiry, quick to speak. "She's my friend. She used to train under Christa, just like me, but she got into the last Winter Olympics and won bronze her first time competing." Ah, he doesn't know much about the Olympics, especially ice skating in the Winter Olympics, but he's pretty sure that's supposed to be really good, especially at entry level. He's shocked to hear Clementine has connections with someone so talented, the kid must really be something.

"She visits sometimes and helps with Clem's training," Omid adds. "Haven't really seen her in a while though."

"-And she promised she'd come and see me today." Clementine continues, her joy fading and face dropping slightly. "...She's not here yet, but she will be soon, it's probably the traffic, she's coming from Atlanta."

The girl's body language, the way her tiny knees push together, the way she fiddles with the jewels on the length of her costume, her eyes and lips twitching and looking around, it's obvious that she's nervous as hell. He hopes that, whoever this girl was, she arrives soon and will hopefully calm the young girl's anxiousness.

They share a bit more small talk before Omid tells Clementine she has to stretch and warm up, exchanging goodbyes with each other and leaving Luke in his lonesome once again. He sees the bleachers of the rink even more filled up than before and figures his best bet is to stay in his spot and watch from behind the windows, even if it meant watching from a farther distance with muffled music. They start with group acts, aspiring figure skaters from kindergarten to highschool all have their own routines, varying in length, quality, and style. He only sees a few falls, but each skater is able to recover quickly and continue their routine, and Luke crosses his fingers that even with her own anxiety, Clementine will be able to do the same if she ends up in a similar situation. Every time an act ends and he has to wait a short period for the next skater to come up, he fidgets in his seat eagerly hoping to see Clementine appear, but she doesn't.

At least a dozen acts have come and go when he sees the family he has grown so close to coming down the hall.

Duck's voice calls out to him first. "Luke? Is that you?" His smile is wide when Luke waves, confirming his assumption to be true. "Mom, Dad, look!"

"Luke! I had no idea you were here." Katjaa addresses him, but her eyes are elsewhere, she stares down the hall and near the entrance, searching for something.

"Clementine asked me to come." He responds, following the places her eyes go curiously. "Y'all alright?"

"We don't know what's happening with Clementine! She was supposed to go on two acts ago."

Kenny waves his wife off, for the very first time, he's the composed one in this situation. "She probably just needed a lil' more prep, ya know? Christa'll have everything under control."

"You want me to help y'all look around?"

Katjaa nods. "Could you? We'd appreciate it."

They separate, the family checking the upper floor and Luke the lower one, where he passes a multitude of skaters, some who he already had seen perform and others who had yet to, and their parents. They crowd most of the halls and Luke is forced to shove his way through them while uttering apologies and thank yous, there are even a few skaters he mistakes for Clementine at first sight, grasping onto their shoulders before quickly apologizing once he realizes his mistake.

He begins to hear muffled voices, laced with stress, saying things he isn't sound enough to decipher.

 _"-mid, you said you'd…er!"_

 _"I was…turned my head...she…gone!_

He peeks over a corner, his rushed jog turning into slow steps, not wanting to walk in on what seemed to be a heated argument.

The voices become louder as he approaches, he can hear the exchange clearly.

"Look, I know it's bad, but once we do find her, please...just don't get mad at her. I just feel like with what's she's been dealing with-"

The next to speak is a female voice. "Oh, trust me, if anyone knows what she's been dealing with _it's me!_ "

The woman continues. "She told me she'd be able to do this! She promised me!" As he gets closer, he recognizes the silhouette of Omid, along with a taller dark-skinned woman in a lavender jacket, a hand on her hip as her eyes are quick to meet his.

"Hey, excuse me, anyone who isn't a skater or a parent isn't allowed to be down here!" She calls out, her lips set in a deep scowl.

"Have you seen Clem?" Omid questions, ignoring his companion as he walks toward him.

Luke opens his mouth to respond, but the woman speaks over him. "You know Clementine? Where is she?"

"I don't know, I was down here trying to look for her."

Omid's face falls as he lets out a groan, massaging the palm of his hand into his forehead. "She's not down here, Christa already checked."

The woman in question, Christa, shares a quick glance of exhaustion with the shorter man, her shoulders go stiff as she makes to move past Luke and down the hall. "I have other students to look after."

"I'm gonna keep looking…" Omid follows Christa lead, speaking to Luke from over his shoulder as he walks off. "If you find Clementine, bring her back down here, okay?"

Luke nods, running his fingers through chestnut bangs as he tries to figure out how he should approach this situation next. He tries phoning the missing girl, but as expected, is sent to voicemail after only a handful of rings. To ignore everyone, to vanish at such an important time, It feels so unlike her, he can't help but start being overwhelmed by distress.

Not knowing anywhere else to go that hadn't been checked, he resorts to going outside, the cool winds blowing through his open jacket and hair. The surrounding areas are without a single person, isolated and covered in the colorful leaves that symbolize autumn.

It's at the back wall of the large building, pop cans and chip bags littering the muddy ground, where he finds her.

She's sitting against the silver link fence in the distance, her knees pushed into her chest and her bloodshot eyes kept on her hands as she fiddles with a shriveled up leaf. He tries to go unnoticed as he gets near, but the leaves and twigs that pile on the ground make it impossible, and her eyes soon connect with his.

He stops in his tracks, waiting to see what she'll do next, whether that be telling him to screw off or running away from him.

But she does neither of those things. She relaxes back into her spot while her amber eyes decide to direct their attention elsewhere. She sits there as if Luke had never come and disturbed her in the first place.

He takes a few cautious steps closer to her, when she continues to show no signs of irritation or forlorn towards him, he hurries his pace and comes to stand beside her.

"Mind if I sit?" He says.

Her head moves to look up at him, acknowledging him for the second time as she shakes her head.

He feels the rough curves of the fence roll along his back as he slides down, crossing his legs and barely grazing Clementine's knee with his own.

Before he can ask her to come back inside, she speaks softly, her gaze still not meeting his. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" He echoes back.

"I know everyone's disappointed in me."

Luke doesn't know how to respond to that. The only way he's ever been able to comfort Clementine in the past, if you could even call it that, was through his guitar, softly strumming to the old song she had grown to love.

But he doesn't have a guitar now, it's just him and her surrounded by the whistles of the wind.

"There might still be time for you to-"

"Please don't make me go back!" She cries then, leaning away from him as if expecting him to reach out, grab her and force her back into the building.

Obviously, he isn't going to do that, but he's befuddled by her fright and sorrow. She loved figure skating, did she not? Yet, here she was, treating it as if it was a nightmare on earth.

"If you don't wanna perform, we can just watch the other skaters before the show ends, would that be better?" He compromises, but she still shakes her head.

"No." Her answer is cold and disconnected, and Luke can tell that his effort to solve her problem is only making things worse for her, so he stays silent after that.

She breaks the silence not long after. "Jane isn't coming."

"Did something happen?"

"No, she's just a lying bitch." Her insult comes out of nowhere and leaves Luke to stare at her with wide eyes, she retracts her statement soon after. "No, she isn't. I don't know why I said that. Forget I said that."

At his lack of response, the girl shifts in her spot before continuing. "I mean, it would've been a waste of her time anyway...I feel kinda stupid thinking she would have actually come."

"Don't say that."

"It's true though, she's not like you."

The brunette's brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

She pushes a flyaway curl away from her face, on her cheeks, he sees the wet tracks of tears that remain "Jane, she's…she's in the Olympics! She has tons of gold medals! It's crazy. Whenever I'm around her...I don't know...I feel like I need to _prove_ myself, give her a reason to talk to me, she doesn't really notice me otherwise."

Luke wants to tell her that her philosophy is wrong, that whoever this 'Jane' was, she cared about Clementine, same as he, she didn't need to earn anyone's friendship. He doesn't know who Jane is though, even if it was simple to imagine the woman having fair intentions, there was no guarantee that Clementine's feelings weren't within reason.

"Well, I think you're pretty cool." Is all he can say.

Clementine's amber eyes light up as her lips curve into a smile. "I know, that's why you aren't like her." She says, laughter in her words. "It's almost as if you like me for who I am or something." She adds sarcastically.

Luke returns her smile with a small one of his own. If it weren't for this, he'd be spending his day off drinking and watching television most likely, maybe going out with Vince and Russell. Instead, the majority of his time that day has been spent searching for a runaway Clementine. And now, he's sitting on the dewy, damp ground beside that same runaway girl, feeling his sinuses clog up and throat go sore. Although he feels like he should be bitter, he can't bring himself to muster up any regret or negative thoughts.

"We should go inside, Clem."

"But-" she goes to refuse, same as she had before, but Luke hushes her.

"Just to get warm, the both of us are bound to get sick sittin' out here." He grunts as he gets himself to stand, stretching his arms over his head.

He turns his attention back to the young girl, who hasn't moved from her spot, but she lets her eyes gaze back up at him.

He attempts to convince her. "Everyone's gonna be worried something happened to ya if you're lost for too long, let's at least let them know you're alright."

She faces the ground again, contemplating it, before taking the hand he extends to her as he pulls her back up.

They slowly walk side by side back toward the building, he can't hear anything but the soft whistling of the wind in his ear and the rustling of disrupted leaves.

"You don't seem like the type of person to be so overwhelmed by stage fright...I guess it's just weird seein' you act like this."

She doesn't show any signs of answering, and he doesn't expect her to, but after a few moments of silence, she does. "I used to know a guy named Lee." She says when he guides her over to his spot near the windows, sitting in the chair opposite to him. "He adopted me when I was eight. Kenny was a friend of his, and Lee would always invite his family over so I could spend time with Duck."

"He sounds like a nice guy." Luke comments.

"He was my best friend, he did everything he could to make me happy, I was so thankful to have someone like him taking care of me." The soft smile that had slowly risen as she spoke fades away without a trace. "Then he died."

Luke feels something get stuck in his throat, causing him to swallow deeply as a feeling of dread weighs down his abdomen. He hated that word, death, dead, die, it had a way of triggering something in him, it always had. He tries to hide his sensitivity, gazing back at Clementine and waiting for her to continue.

"Now, whenever I skate, I think of him. I end up forgetting parts of my routine, I can't land my jumps, sometimes I cry." She glances at him as if expecting him to say something, but he doesn't, so she lays her head down on the table, her eyes fluttering shut as she stays there for awhile. "I wanna start performing again, I need to if I'm ever gonna be a professional. I just don't know what to do."

She's prompting him to speak now, she wants his thoughts, _his advice_ , Luke never thought of himself as someone to go to for advice, or emotional support. He tried his hardest to comfort those around him when they were faced with adversity or overwhelmed by their own mind, but that didn't exactly mean he was good at it. There were even times where he would distance himself from those suffering around him, as negligent and selfish as it is.

But if anyone needed him right now, it was her, so he fights against the urge to change the subject to something less bleak, and responds with something he hopes will lift her spirits. "He'd want you to perform, wouldn't he?"

She shrugs. "Of course, but then I do stuff like this. I became a skater to perform, not run away like a coward."

He remembers what he told her last night. "Clementine, if you fall on stage or forget what to do or...cry, it's not the end of the world. You can get back up and keep going, nothing's stopping you but yourself."

"But I'm gonna look like an idiot." She says simply, raising her head to adjust her hat.

"Yeah, it's gonna be embarrassin' and scary but you'll keep going, soon you'll forget bout it. The more you perform the more comfortable you'll feel, and one day you'll be able to perform purposely in front of dozens of people. But in order to get to that, you need to get that experience." He explains, for a second he actually feels proud of himself, but when he returns his attention to her, her features remained unaffected by his words.

She shuts her eyes, inhaling sharply before exhaling slowly, smiling warmly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"You understand what I just said?"

"Yes."

Luke narrows his eyes on her, leaning toward her. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better about myself?"

The girl can't contain her snickering. "I don't care about your feelings enough for that." She replies jokingly, as her laughter lessens, her face relaxes into a serene expression. "I'm gonna try. It might take me a long time, but I will. One day, I'm going to perform in front of you, too."

The brunette man tilts his head to the side, smirking with a slow nod. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Good."

"Clementine!" Katjaa cries, making the younger girl jump up as she turns her head to the side, the plump woman coming toward their table, Kenny and Duck following close behind.

"A text or call would've been nice," Kenny says bitterly, his attention directed at Luke.

Luke feels the muscles of his face tense, his grin is hesitant. "Sorry. I meant to, got a lil' off track."

He sees the glint of fright that flickers in Clementine's amber irises, her mouth opens to speak but Katjaa is already embracing her before she can. "Are you okay? We were looking everywhere for you."

He can hear her voice, but her small head is buried in the older woman's thick coat, muffling her response until Katjaa breaks away. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

The blonde woman shakes her head. "There's nothing to be sorry for, I had no idea you didn't want to perform."

"I do...I just..."

"Try again whenever you feel comfortable, dear."

Clementine shakes her head. "Next time. I promise. The first chance I get."

"Now, now..." The edge of Kenny's mouth tugs into a light smile as he continues to address the young girl. "Us folks in the Hammon family don't take promises lightly. You sure you ready to promise us somethin' like that?"

"Yes. I promise. I swear on my life. I'll prove it to you." Clementine nods as she speaks, determination burning in her glowing eyes as she regards her family and the young man across from her.

Not one inch of him questions her resolve.

* * *

The door of the changing room shuts behind her with a gust of wind, chilling the sweat that soaks her brow. Clementine graps the white towel wrapped around her neck and gently cleans the sweat on her face that's drying into her skin. She despised the feeling of sweat that cakes all over her body, however, it's one of those things that came with figure skating, or just about anything for that matter, and couldn't be avoided.

 _"If you aren't coated in your own sweat and tears, you're not doing it right."_ It was one of the first things her coach, Christa, had taught her, and it remained in her mind on the ice ever since.

Sitting on the benches, she leans against the wall behind her and makes an attempt at some relaxation. Her muscles are arching to the broken tune of her own heartbeat, she hated the sweat, but the aches soothed her in its own way, overwhelming her with pride and fulfillment.

She searches through her bag for her buzzing phone and grips it into her clammy palms.

A string of messages nearly overflow her notifications. Clementine can help but squint at the screen unpleasantly.

 _Kenneth "Duck" Hammon Jr has started a group chat._

 _Kenneth "Duck" Hammon Jr has invited Clementine Hutchinson, Sarah_ Chaikin _and Luke Porter to the group chat._

 _Kenneth "Duck" Hammon Jr has renamed the group chat to "THE SQUAAAD + that one old guy who lives across from us"_

 _[10:34am]_

 _Duck: Fourth of July is in a week! Woot Woot!_

 _Sarah: Are you guys still going to_ central _park to see the fireworks?_

 _Duck: duh we go every year._

 _Duck: you should come Luke. You hole up in your house every year. BORING._

 _Sarah: Yeah, Luke, the fireworks are gonna be great this year!_

 _[11:15am]_

 _Duck: Luke?_

 _[11:58am]_

 _Duck: HELLLOOOOOO!?_

 _[12:42pm]_

 _Duck: I think he's ignoring us._

Clementine smirks down at her phone screen, typing in a message of her own. Words that her eleven-year-old self would've been completely ignorant to.

 _[1:33pm]_

 _Clementine: He's probably not even up yet, you know what creepy old single guys do all night._

 _Sarah: What?_

 _Clementine: Watch Pornhub lmao_

 _Duck: XDD CLEM WTF_

 _Sarah:_ ewwww

 _Luke: WOAH CLEM_

 _Clementine: There you are!_

 _Clementine: Are you coming to central park?_

 _Luke: I'm not sure. I know Nick's going._

 _Duck: Him!? Seriously?_

 _Luke: His_ gf _is forcing him to go._

 _Sarah: He has a_ gf _?_ Aw _that's so sweet :)_

 _Duck: HE GOT A GF? HOW?_

 _Clementine: AW LUKE_

 _Clementine: You're the third wheel, you poor thing_

 _Luke: Hah. Hah. Hah. yes I'm well aware_

 _Clementine: Seriously though, please come, it's been so long since we've seen you._

 _Duck: We haven't seen you since my mom brought you leftovers from_ _Thanksgiving._

 _Clementine: Holy shit, we literally haven't seen you since November. Now you gotta come._

She leaves it there, placing her phone beside her as she pulls a protein bar out of her bag and rips open the plastic. As she bites into the bar, her jaw seems to subconsciously lock in distaste with each grind of her teeth. She doesn't like her protein bars, not even a little. Once she's started spending twelve hour days in the rink on the weekend, attending private lessons, practices, rehearsals and even assisting Christa in the children's beginner classes, she hasn't had the time to dedicate to a full lunch or breakfast, it left granola bars and high-calorie protein bars as her only alternative. Either that or she was going to end up starving herself.

Her phone vibrates again, and her hand rushes to pick it up and check Luke's response.

 _Oh. Nevermind, just a spam email notification._

She takes another bitter bite of her protein bar. Even at fifteen, bothering the twenty-eight-year-old that lives across the street is still amongst her favourite pastimes. Sure, the chances to do so had become more sparse as years went on, yet she wouldn't let it pass whenever she was given the opportunity.

Some nights she lays awake and thinks about going to his house and asking him to play guitar for her again, but she knows better not to. She had not long ago aged out of her adolescent rebellion, these days, with both figure skating and school on her plate, she barely sees Kenny and Katjaa anymore, when she does however, she's sure to be courteous to them.

She never saw Luke anymore either, they had spent the beginning of her teenage years keeping up with one another's life through Facebook, but doing that had become a time consumer for her as well.

 _Buzz._

Her hands almost drop her phone when she rushes to pick it up again.

 _[1:40pm]_

 _Luke: Can't be sure right now, I might be working. But I'll try my best to be there. Promise!_

 _Clementine: Okay!_

 _Sarah: Thanks!_

 _Duck: Yayy_

"Clementine!" Christa's strong voice calls out to her before opening the changing room door. "I know you have ten more minutes till your private, but I just got a call from Omid, could you help Chloe with her axels till I get back?"

Clementine rubs the towel against her forehead one final time. "Of course."

* * *

"Here, Clem." Kenny says, his broad voice softer than she was used to as he hands over the janky wooden crutches that would be plaguing her for the next few months. "If you ever get tired or feel light-headed, you can lean on me, or Kat, or even Duck! Right, Duck?"

She interrupts Duck's reply. "I know!" She hisses in her own suppressed outrage, taking back her harsh tone soon after. "I know…thank you, Kenny, you don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine."

He doesn't seem bothered by her infuriated attitude, Kenny wasn't the most understanding man in the world, but she's incredibly thankful that he gives up his short temper for her in this troubling time.

As Kenny nods toward her and leaves her be, she gazes down at her leg, specifically the lower half of it that is wrapped in thick medical tape.

It was her own fault.

It was just another rehearsal, she had no reason to overexert herself as much as she had. The way the ice grazed the sharp curve of her skates, leaving tiny chunks of frost that flick against her calves as she sped through the rink, it felt empowering. Christa told her to slow down, she hadn't listened, if anything her pace had sped up. As a result, when her triple axel came, her momentum was far too strong, and her ankle twisted the second it landed back on the ice.

She hadn't cried, not a single tear, she wanted some of her pride to remain in that ice rink. At least it didn't happen during a performance.

When he arrives, alongside Nick and his girlfriend, Stephanie, Luke's dark eyes take notice of her as she leans on her crutches and robotically pulls herself toward him. She can't stand the pity that swirls in his warm earthy orbs.

Nick and Luke place both their blankets not far from her family's spot on the park's field, right in the direction where the fireworks are gonna be. Katjaa offers them soda and hamburgers that she had made for the wait.

"You're gonna have some explainin' to do for this one," Luke says after popping open a Gingerale, pointing at her injured leg as she sits beside him.

"Didn't know you were so interested in my legs." She jokes, if it weren't so hot during the summer, she would have worn leggings or jeans, anything to cover the bandages. The crutches were one thing, but the medical tape that isn't covered by her shorts make it look so much worse than she feels it should be.

He lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what the hell ya did."

"Exactly what you think, I was figure skating and I overdid it."

Just then, Sarah jogs toward them, Duck close behind her. "Luke, you came!"

"What? Didn't think I would?"

Sarah shrugs, playing with her long straightened black hair. "Honestly? Not really."

Clementine tries to form some kind of greeting, but her mind went blank. It's been awhile since she has seen Sarah, as well as Luke, despite their close friendship, Sarah has become a very busy person, that much they still had in common. They went to the same school, Athens Academy, but Clementine took very little classes at the actual school. Online classes were much more convenient for her, so, more often than not, she only had about one in-school class a semester. Meanwhile, Sarah's entire life has pretty well become school and nothing else, she has a regular place on the honour roll and takes dozens of AP classes and dual credit programs with UGA. Sarah wants to be a doctor, just like her father, that means she will need a lot to put on her college application, and she is certainly succeeding in that area. She would be graduating this year, so if anything, her time is even more limited than usual.

But that isn't the issue for her, not really, when lack of free time became an issue for the both of them during Clementine's first year of highschool, keeping up their friendship with things like text messages and Skype calls was simple for them.

The issue is Duck, specifically her _and_ Duck...together... _kissing_.

They weren't dating, Sarah's father, Carlos, would never let something like that happen, but there was definitely something there. Clementine had turned a blind eye to it at first, convinced the romantic tension between them when they all finally had a chance to hang out together was a figment of her own imagination. When she peeks into Duck's room one day and sees them kiss like cringey, inexperienced middle schoolers, she realizes her intuition had been right.

Once that much is confirmed, she starts to take notice of things she hadn't before, Duck leaving the house in the evenings to 'study', constantly texting and giggling at his phone during dinner, when Sarah and Duck both just happen to be active on Facebook at _three in the fucking morning_.

She probably shouldn't be hurt or offended, but she is. She feels weird, she feels out of place and unwanted whenever the three are together. She hates it. So, whenever they offer the three of them to hang out together, Clementine spends the night ignoring their texts, and if she doesn't, she makes an excuse as to why she can't make it until eventually, they take the hint and stop talking to her.

"Well, I'm here, so consider yourself wrong."

"Hah!" Duck smirks, his face still surrounded in freckles that are fading the older he gets, and his hair, now a darker shade and longer length that resembles Kenny's, disheveled. "You owe me five bucks, Sarah!"

She giggles in a way that is far too feminine and sweet, rolling her eyes. "Okay, okay, you win."

Clementine fights back a cringe, forcing a tight smile as she feels herself move closer toward Luke. "So, you still work at that cheap hardware store?"

"Sadly. Hey, finally got a promotion, though! two more and I'll be a manager."

Duck grins. "Only took you what...four years?"

Luke fakes an expression of offense as he takes a sip from his soda. "Hey, ain't my fault the boss hates me."

"Hates you?" Sarah repeats the words, almost horrified. "Why would your boss hate you?"

"Vince and Nick have been saying that he's jealous of me."

"Jealous? Why?"

"What do you mean why? Have you _seen_ me?" Luke smirks slyly, running his fingers through his thick strands of silky brunette hair in an overdramatic fashion. "These luscious locks, this manly 5 o'clock shadow, this sharp jawline? Of course the old guy's jealous!"

Clementine nudges him with her elbow before he can go on. "You probably just don't do shit. You're not cute enough for that."

He raises a brow. "I'm not?"

 _You are._ "You're not!"

Sarah interrupts them before the conversation can go on. "My dad's probably gonna start wondering where I am soon, so I better go, nice seeing you again, Luke! You too, Clem."

"Yeah, bye." She says awkwardly as Sarah turns to leave.

"See ya, Sarah!" Luke calls right after.

Duck follows her until he meets up with his parents again and sits by them, leaving Clementine and Luke alone.

"That was awkward." The brunette mumbles bluntly.

She grits her teeth. "You could tell?"

"Anyone could tell. What happened between you three?"

"Long story." She pulls her lips into a smile, patting his back and glancing at Nick and Stephanie. "Let's just say you're not the only third wheel here, buddy."

" _Oh_ …" Luke eyes widen in realization, but he relaxes back quickly, returning her sympathetic smile. "Takes one to know one, I suppose."

* * *

Luke takes in a sharp breath as he observes Stephanie taking a bottle of whiskey and handing it over to Clementine.

 _"Woah!"_ Luke is immediately on the defensive, stealing the bottle from Stephanie before Clementine's hand can take a hold of the beverage. "Stephanie, what the hell?"

Her dark brows furrow in genuine confusion. "What?!"

Nick gives him a look that tells him he's not exactly pleased with the way Luke's decided to address his friend's girlfriend, but he's too freaked out by the situation that was just about to occur to care.

"She's fifteen!" He reveals, placing the whiskey bottle back on the blanket that sits atop the park's grassy terrain.

Luke's body tenses with unease, shocked by how simple it was for the younger girl to blend into their group, it's become frankly obvious to him how much older she is now. She's given up the tomboy look she originally went for, but she hasn't given up on her faded, stained baseball cap and tying the length of her curls up in pigtails, her hair's much longer and better put together than in her youth. The baby fat is gone from her face, and he can see the slightest bit of mascara on her lashes and eyeshadow on her eyelids. He never understood the use of makeup, especially applying it on a regular basis, but it seemed cosmetics became part of the average female's teenage experience. Clementine was no different.

Sometimes, lost in the midst of everything, he feels as if he's talking to an entirely different person.

"Oh shit…" Stephanie utters apologetically, taking a few hurried glances at Nick, begging her boyfriend to save her from Luke's confrontation. "I'm sorry, I had no idea! She looked like...seventeen?"

"Seventeen is still way underage, Stephanie."

Nick scoffs before cutting into their conversation. "Don't be a hypocrite, man. You and I started drinking when we were at least fourteen."

"Yeah. And it was pretty damn stupid of us too. I don't care what you gotta say, it ain't happening."

Clementine regards him with an arched brow, Nick and Stephanie sharing a similar expression. This wouldn't often be something he cared to bother over, he's been a teenager before, he knows they aren't lost little toddlers as many liked to treat them. Most of them are on the edge of adulthood, some more ready than others. Clementine was certainly mature enough to handle alcohol, in his personal opinion, and she probably would control it better than he and Nick were able to at her age.

But he isn't sure he would be able to handle seeing Clementine drinking a bottle of whiskey right beside him, well he's sitting right there. He can barely wrap his head around the fact she isn't an eleven-year-old anymore as it is.

Oh, and it's illegal as hell.

"I suppose I'll stick to my sprite," Clementine announces in an attempt to fill the silence, grasping onto the pop can loosely and taking a sip from it.

Luke searches his head for something to bring up in order to change the topic, but his thought process halts when he hears a commotion coming from a group near them, mixed with laughter, cheers, and shouts.

 _"Guys, look! She's finally here!"_

 _"About damn time!"_

 _"Late as usual!"_

 _"Did you forget about us after getting famous, Janey-poo?"_

Janey-poo?

His sights catch the woman their calls are directed at, coming toward the group with a thin-lipped smirk. The collar of her jet black leather jacket is lined with a light brown fur that weirdly resembles her sleek pixie cut.

"If you call me _Janey-poo_ one more time, I swear I'm out of here."

Suddenly, he notices the teenage girl on the other side of him slide closer to him, ducking her head and trying to use his body as a shield to hide away from the loud drunken group, all while secretively eyeing the same brunette woman. When he directs his gaze at her, she doesn't even give him a glance.

"What's wrong, Clem?"

"That's..." Her eyes don't move from it's set place, but she speaks after a short pause. "That's Jane...I haven't seen her since..."

She doesn't continue.

 _Jane?_ He recognizes the name, Clementine had brought the woman up to her before, her words had been spoken with admiration and enthusiasm. Which is why he couldn't understand the girl's avoidance of the woman she seemed to respect so much, most of the time that is.

"Well? Aren't'cha gonna go say hello?"

Her face twists with horror. "Say hello? _Are you insane?"_

Luke shrugs, unsure what the think but figuring it was best not to try and force anything. He's about to ask Stephanie for some whiskey, but she and his old friend were nowhere to be seen. Nick and Stephanie seem to have snuck away while Luke and Clementine were distracted by Jane's loud entrance, and he doesn't wanna know why.

Jane's group of friends continue to laugh and talk amongst each other loudly, they are on the edge of disruptive, to the point that Kenny, as well as a few other older members of the city, call them out on their noise, but are ignored. After a couple of minutes, the group, along with Clementine, seem to calm down and things become peacefully quiet again.

Clementine brings up the topic again. "Do you really think I should say hello to her?"

Luke had thought the two had gotten past this, but it appears Jane was still weighing heavy on the girl's mind. He notices that Jane has since separated herself from the group, and was now standing near the park's crowded parking lot, phone in hand and looking to be waiting for something, or someone.

"Aren't you two friends?"

"I mean...well...I haven't seen her in months, Luke."

"So? I'm sure she'll be happy to see ya again." He encourages.

She grits her teeth. "She's with all her friends! Why would she want to talk to me?"

"Who wouldn't wanna talk to you?"

"That's fucking fake, Luke." She states bluntly. "That's the fakest shit I've ever heard."

Every time he hears her curse, he swears he flinches. "Hush."

"Fake friend."

" _Huuuuush._ "

She finally does.

"Just go talk to her, I can tell you really want to, you both need to catch up." He advises her in a gentle tone.

She blinks at him a few times, her expression sheepish as he watches her eyes dart over to the surgical tape around her leg and the clunky crutches laying at her side. Finally, without her having to say a word, he understands.

Luke places a light hand on the portion of her injured leg, covered in bandages. "You ain't got any reasons to be ashamed of that." When her eyebrows lower doubtfully, he gives her a reassuring smile. "Many people who have a career in somethin' so physical, like sports, get injured regularly, it shows their dedication."

"Dedication?"

"Yeah. If anyone's dedicated, Clem, it's you." He assures, returning his hand to his lap. "I know it, and so will Jane."

After a moment of taking in his praise, she scoffs. "You overdid it a little but I think I get what you're trying to say." Not waiting for his reply, she takes one of her crutches and leans on it as she goes to stand, taking the other and laying them beneath her shoulders and moving forward.

He smiles at her retreating form, returning his focus to the six-pack of beer across from him, taking a can from it and clicking it open.

The almond eyes of Jane seem to widen in concern as an injured Clementine inches toward her. The edge of the older woman's lips tug upwards stiffly and Luke observes as the two speak to one another in the distance. Clementine becomes more and more relaxed as the conversation goes on, her eyes bright and smile sprinkled with delight. For a second, he's confident in his advice, that he had been right. That this whole thing about worth and shame is all an insecurity trapped in the teenager's mind.

But he notices something.

The way Jane's shoulders rise tensely, the way her eyes search the area, almost never meeting Clementine. Her forced smile is plastered onto her face. It was clear to him that Jane wanted _nothing_ to do with it.

And Clementine has no idea. She's so joyful to finally have the chance to speak to someone who she respected and admired so much, someone who's a role model to her, that she can't see the disinterest she is being given in response.

After a few minutes of discussion, Jane waves a quick goodbye as she spins on her heel and heads the other direction. He can tell by the way the younger girl's jaw is hanging open that she's been left mid-sentence, and he can't help but clench his fists into the blanket he's sitting on.

He wants to be understanding, maybe it was just a bad day, maybe she was tired or frustrated or busy, but he can't stand the forced way she chooses to regard such a well-intentioned girl, nor the cold shoulder she shows to her. Can't she give Clementine a minute of her time? A moment of her genuine kindliness?

 _Calm down..._ He tells himself.

He had no reason to assume about someone he'd never spoken to.

Releasing a breath, he felt the heated fury in his face drain away slowly, though he could not seem to unhook the uncomfortable clench in his jaw.

He tries to portray an unreadable expression as Clementine returns to Kenny and Katjaa at their spot on the field, looking at him from over her shoulder as she waves cheerfully, smiling ignorantly without a trace of suspicion or doubt.

Luke can't help but start downing the drink in his hand.

* * *

"Did you see the way you were looking at him?"

"Excuse me?"

"You weren't even trying to hide it!"

Clementine groans, realizing exactly where this is going, sixteen or not, Duck was still as immature as ever.

 _"Clem and Luuuuke sittin' in a tree-"_

"Duck, Stop."

 _"K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."_

"Stop!"

 _"First comes love, then comes marriage-"_

"Shut up!"

 _"The comes a baby in a baby car-_ Oooooow! Okay! Fine! I'm stopping! Stop!"

Clementine releases the hold she has on Duck's forearm, settling back in her place grumpily as she folds her arms. There goes the positive mood she was in after reconnecting with Jane again. She has to fight against the urge to call him out on his situation with Sarah as revenge, but she was still eager to enjoy the luxury of pretending she still had no idea that was happening between the two.

She frowns. "That's _gross_. He's almost thirty."

"It's just like that crush you had on our geography teacher in grade 7. What was his name again? Mr. Shawn Greene? Yeah, that was- _Ow!"_

She punches his arm before he can finish his sentence, brows knitted and her restraints loosening by the second. Before their conversation can progress further, she catches Kenny and Katjaa heading toward them, praying Duck will drop the subject.

"Get ready! Just a few more minutes and then it's fireworks!" Kenny announces to them. It's a tidbit of information that would have had the Duck and Clementine from years ago cheering childishly, practically shaking in anticipation. But as the sulky teenagers they've become, Kenny receives little to no response.

She takes the moment to glance back at Luke's spot just a little farther behind them, Nick and Stephanie have yet to return, leaving the young man in his lonesome drinking whiskey like some kind of an alcoholic creeper.

"Aunt Brie can't wait to see you at the family reunion next week, Duck! She hasn't seen you since you were _this_ big."

"Mom...do I really have to go? You told Clementine she could stay home!" Duck whines.

"Of course you're going! Don't you want to see all your family?"

After that, she blocks out the bickering brewing between mother and son, sliding away from the family unnoticed as she returns to Luke's blanket.

"Hi again." She says. "Could I sit?"

Luke shifts his dark eyes over to her, his eyebrows jumping up slightly, not expecting her to show up again so quickly. "Go ahead. Is something wrong?"

"No, you just look like a loner over here, I felt bad."

He clicks his tongue with a grin, finishing the last swig of his whiskey bottle. "Wow, how thoughtful of you."

"I try."

He pauses. "So, any updates on your figure skating? I've been curious."

Clementine freezes in her spot, unaware of the fact she has thus far left Luke out of the loop when it comes to her ice skating. Not for any reason, she hasn't had the chance to bring it up, it really has been awhile since they've talked. She remembers the things she had told him in her youth, many things she had never admitted or shared with anyone, all out of desperation to let her feelings out to someone who she truly felt would care. As she keeps his gaze, she wonders if _he_ still remembers those things, if they had meant as much to him as they had to her, or if he had cluelessly forgotten about them with the passing years.

She lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, letting the lost thoughts melt away as she answers him simply. "I'll have you know, I've been performing."

"Mhm? You still owe me a performance." He reminds her.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good, cause I-"

His sentence is left unconcluded as the loud boom of a firework steals their attention, the vibrant red sparkles lighting up the sky, followed closely behind with a royal blue firework, and then a silver one. Clementine stares as an array of colours bloom across the black sky, a subconscious smile curving on her face.

"Wow." She hears Luke utter breathlessly.

She can't help but have her sight wander toward Luke, she studies his eyes as they gleam with the colourful fireworks that reflect off his earthy irises, the bright lights bring out the hazel flecks in his eyes that are unnoticeable in the normal daylight. She sees his lips smile gently, the corners of his eyes squeezing with contentment as his hand scratches at his dark stubble.

Once she catches herself staring, she whips her head away from the young man and back to the sky. The sing-song voice of Duck mocking her just a few minutes before echoing in her head.

It's not that weird, is it? It's not like it's anything more than some little crush that had come to light in the last year.

She isn't one to daydream about romance often, at least not the level Sarah once did at her age. On the other hand, she isn't an alien, she does find herself imagining the stereotypical dream guy, just like any other teenage girl, and when she does, the man in question just so happens to have medium-length, thick brunette hair, dark eyes, light facial hair and a subtle southern accent.

To say she was inexperienced with attraction and dating would be an understatement, what she does know though is that crushes are...well...crushing, so the moment she acknowledges her schoolgirl crush, she keeps a mental note not to become to attached to her attraction. Because no matter what the circumstance, it's never going to become a reality for her, maybe with someone else, but not with Luke.

She doesn't like the awkwardness that can flood their conversations when she comes particularly aware of the crush, she hopes that she hasn't been making a fool of herself and making her feelings obvious, as Duck just loved to point out.

But most of all, she hopes it'll just _go away_ , the longer it lasted, the worse it was gonna be for her.

 _That was a fact._


	4. IV

A/N: Yay! I managed to get this one out this month! This chapter is very cut down from its original outline, I didn't expect it to be as long as it was. I'm trying to keep things under 10,000 words, I feel like going over it is when things are going to start getting tedious, and this chapter is just 500 words from reaching that limit. I've kinda changed up my original plans for chapter ends, next chapter is going to have a much more dramatic end than originally intended, (I think it was supposed to happen in the middle of next chapter, but I like the idea of it being an end a lot better now) so get excited for that! Yes, if you're wondering about the scene with the dufflebag, that was totally inspired by Life Is Strange Before The Storm Episode 2.

 **SPOILER ALERT:** (not really, but if you really wanna go in blind for this you can skip this little message until you read the chapter) the part where Clementine is skating is referenced! If you're interested in a visual of what her skating's supposed to be like in that scene, search up _"Taylor Sirset National Showcase 2012"_ on youtube, the first option should be an ice skating performance to A Thousand Years. I will be posting a link to the video on my profile.

 **WARNING:** The opening scene to this is very disturbing. I'm considering having the rating moved up to M by next chapter for various reasons, if anyone has a problem with that, please say so.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **longdayz:** Can I just say...Thank you so much for this review, the fact my writing is enough to be looked into this much means so much. I know writing long reviews like this can be so hard, I'm so glad you're interested in my story! Even with the negatives, I really do appreciate all that you said.

For your inquiry about why I added Clementine's P.O.V, yes, my original intention was that the story be told from Luke, and that it was actually being written by him, but when I started making the outline, I realized how barren this story would be without Clementine's added thoughts and perspectives. The original reason I considered it was because of the age gap, I felt like if I kept it in Luke's perspective, it could be believed that Clementine was "forced" into the relationship, and that would make it creepy and disturbing. But that was before I outlined it and decided exactly what the romantic scenes were, and how those as well as their relationship was gonna play out, and I feel like with what I have, it'd be easy to see Clementine is attracted to Luke, and completely consenting to everything that happens between them, even without her added perspective. But Clementine sees and experiences a lot of things that I think having her perspective removed would be a wasted opportunity.

I decided this before writing chapter 1, so I guess now I gotta explain why I would keep the opening scene as it is. Well, that opening scene was the very first thing I imagined for this fanfiction, and ultimately what made me decide to write this stupid idea up as a series and post it online, so I hold it dear to me. I have it as a perfect picture in my head, and despite being a writing mistake, I can't imagine this fanfiction without the scene in its current state. I'd respond to the Jane dilemma in full, but this is already a really long response, so let me just say all the things you said I'm gonna keep in mind for super chapters, and I might add a mention of Jane in earlier chapters as you mentioned. Thank you for reading!

 **unnbrella:** Your continuing support for this fic brightens my day! Thanks so much for reviewing. I know I messaged you about this, but I'm just gonna type it out for anyone else who is confused and wants an answer. Clementine and Duck are adopted siblings, Sarah isn't related, literally or by adoption, she's someone who is commonly babysat by their same babysitter (Sandra, Luke) because Carlos takes long work trips that keep him from his house at continuous periods of time. The two families are friends. I'm sorry if I didn't specify that! I'm so sorry I keep teasing you with Clem's skating! I promise you that she'll be skating soon, really soon. (as in this chapter.) I'm also glad to hear you're a fan of eleven yr old Clem, that's always how I imagined her being if she wasn't in the apocalypse, and I'll try to see if I can add some flashbacks with her! Thank you for reading!

 **Guest:** (regarding Lee and Clem's parents' influence on her life) I'm really happy to hear that you like how everyone is being implemented! I really wanted to focus on that. Answers and more information on Lee and Clementine's parents are coming soon! Stay tuned! Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Alcoholism, Domestic Abuse, Blood, Accidental Self Harm, Mentions of Suicide, Implied Sexual Intercourse while Intoxicated.

* * *

 **Playlist:**

1\. Help Me Out by Alicks

2\. Panther by Made In Heights

3\. Mooncatch by Lontalius

4\. A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

5\. So Sad, So Sad by Varsity

6\. Running Low by Blackbear

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 4

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

 _His mother hasn't left her room for days._

 _Luke wonders if she'll ever come out._

 _There's not much to miss, even in her absence, the house was the same. Silent and unmoving, with creaking floorboards and the chirps of cicadas that can be heard from the open windows._

 _His father won't say more than a few words to him, just as before._

 _His mother isn't speaking to him, just as before._

 _They both tended to his needs, nothing more, nothing less._

 _The eleven-year-old spends his free nights whittling with a block of wood, quiet and alone, just as before._

 _That chill that slowly makes it's way up his spine has become familiar to him, the odd thing is, he's never even cold._

 _Now he's finishing his tiny wooden horse, that he's been whittling together for the last hour and a half, in truth, it's nothing to be proud of, but it's better than he's ever done before. He's too confident when he slides his pocket knife down all too quickly and slices a deep cut into his thumb._

 _The thick blood leaks down his palm and stains portions of the wood scarlet, he drops the item in his hand and feels his breathing quicken at the sight before him. His stomach pumping in and out anxiously, tiny drops of scarlet drip on the floor and at his feet, he rushes out his room and down the stairs. He puts his hand under the kitchen sink and lets the water wash the cut out, it stings and he can feel every flush of water that flows into his skin. He can't call for his dad, there's no doubt he's already busy with his farm work, and his mom..._

 _Her room is right by the kitchen, he can see the dusted over door not far behind him, he trails his way over slowly, holding a damp cloth over his bloody hand and knocks, not expecting an answer._

 _"Mom?"_

 _Nothing._

 _He tries again. "Mom? I need your help."_

 _He puts his uninjured hand on the doorknob, turning it, anticipating the click of a locked door, but he's relieved when the door actually begins to open._

 _Not a single light is on, nothing but the daylight that shines through the curtains, and the shadows of the room that are tall and compressing. On the other side of the room, is the large bed, belonging to his mother, who lays in the middle, her face deep in a pillow, all he can see is the mess of graying dark hair. The side table is covered from each corner in beer bottles and other drinks he can't recognize, he even sees some amongst the mess on the ground._

 _"Mom?"_

 _She doesn't move an inch, but he can see her hand clench into a tight fist. She says something, but it's muffled and he can't hear it._

 _After a couple of seconds, he watches her shuffle in her spot, contorting her body as she sits up, her back to him as she speaks harshly._

 _"It's your fault."_

 _He's almost glad he can't see the look on her_ face, _because if he did, he might just burst out crying._

 _She continues, but her voice changes drastically, it wavers, filled with pain. "You and your father, you're both so terrible. Why would you do this to me?"_

 _The ragged links of her spine poke out from her white tank top, he can't remember the last time he has seen his mother eating, but she has never appeared this thin, he can see every crevice of her arms and back, the bones, muscles, and vertebrates. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end, and he can feel a chill rush through his skin._

 _"I love you so much, Lucas. I'd do anything for you, I'd die for you."_

 _He opens his mouth to speak, becoming aware of the dryness in his throat. "I love you too, Ma." He croaks._

 _"No, you don't." Her demeanor changes again, her voice filled with venom, her words meant to hurt him._

 _Her constant change and shifts in mood are something he's familiar with, he's experienced them more than a few times, but it didn't make it any less degrading._

 _He instinctively takes a wary step back as his mother turns her head toward him, letting him finally catch sight of her. Dark shades of gray are packed under his eyes, her hair is unkempt, visibly dry and brittle, and she's wearing the same thing she was when she first shut herself in the room. Her eyes are tinted pink, the color darkening at the edges of her waterline. So many tears his mother had cried because of him and his father, she made sure he was aware of that._

 _"I miss being your age, I didn't even realize how easy everything had been for me. You're so lucky, Lucas, you don't deserve to suffer." She gets out of the bed with a grunt, he hopes she's gotten past her feelings and is coming to help him, so he mirrors her sloppy movements until they meet and she takes a gentle grip on his wrist as she draws it closer to her._

 _She's smiling, softly with half-lidded eyes, it's almost as if the deep cut of his palm isn't even there, like it's just spilled juice or a stain. Her other hand, clenched shut, holding something, hovers just above his palm, dropping five or six small tablets into his hand. To his ignorant mind, they look like Tic Tacs, big red and blue Tic Tacs._

 _"These are sleeping pills, honey."_

 _"These are dads, right? So he can sleep."_

 _She nods slowly. "But with this much, you and I, we can sleep forever."_

 _Luke's already rushed heartbeat seems to spike. "Forever? L-Like dying?"_

 _"Don't say it like that." She says with a giggle. "You make it sound so bad when you say it like that. Lucas, I'm saving you, do you understand?" With her son's visible hesitation, she sighs. "Your father, he's trying to make you into a machine, I can't let that happen."_

 _"-But I don't wanna...die."_

 _"You don't now, but one day you will, and you'll wish you took these." She explains it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Luke wonders if he's missing something here, he doesn't want to disappoint her, or bring her more pain than he already has, but he certainly doesn't want to die, at least he thinks he doesn't._

 _"No!" He shouts now, throwing the pills to her feet, his face falling just seconds later as he sees the way her expression lowers, pure hatred leaking into her like an oil spill._

 _She picks a majority of the pills from the ground, dust and all, jumping up to force him to the ground with her free hand, pinning him. "This is for the best, it is! you just don't understand!" She hisses, shoving the pills into his mouth._

 _He coughs and sputters, he feels warm tears falling down his cheeks and attempts to call her, he feels paralyzed under her weight, unable to move a muscle as she manually unhooks his clenched jaw and continues her efforts. If a pill spills out, she's sure to put it back in. It isn't long until they are getting stuck in the back of his throat, and he's heaving dryly, making sharp choking sounds as he feels himself lose consciousness._

* * *

 ** _"Please!"_**

He sits up as he shrieks, waking from his nightmare, his muscles twitching, the feeling of his mother clawing at him deliriously begins to fade, and his chest pushes in and out with his heavy, audible breaths.

He runs his palm through his tangled hair, it's soaked in sweat that drips onto his blanket and trails down his neck. God, he hasn't had those types of nightmares in years. It comes as a shock to him, and something seems to squeeze at his heart and make him despise his subconscious for letting him have such dreams. He really thought he was over it, he really did.

Memories of his family were something he convinced himself was destined to haunt him forever, yet these days, they only crossed his mind briefly, with barely a second thought. It was unbelievable how easy it was for people to forget about some things that were once so prominent in their life. Well, *forget* may not be the right word, more like, push to the back of their minds. He was once used to nightmares like these, it always started off as a memory of his childhood, but with a dark twist. If his mother, wherever she was at this point, knew he thought of her doing something like that, murdering him, he was sure she'd tell him how selfish and victimizing he was.

His phone rings obnoxiously, interrupting the words he can imagine his mother telling him.

Luke's first instinct is to ignore the call, he follows that thought, rolling over to his cellphone that's sitting on the nightstand and reaching his hand over it.

 _Clem._ The screen displays.

Why would she be calling him?

He reconsiders his original plan and picks up the phone, sliding his finger across the screen.

"Clem?"

 _"Luke, are you awake?"_

"Nah, I'm fast asleep." He jokes.

 _"Oh my god. Stop."_

There's an exchange of broken laughter between the too, and as that fades, there's a silent pause.

 _"Are you okay?"_

Luke takes a sharp, worried breath that he hopes she isn't able to hear through the receiver. "Of course. Why?"

 _"I dunno, I guess you just...sound different."_

"Yeah, Clem, I'm good." Luke knows she wasn't calling him just to say hi, so he cuts to the chase before Clementine can utter a word of her reply. "Why'd ya call? Everythin' alright over there?"

Another pause. _"Can you...do me a favor?"_ The girl says softly.

"Me? Why me?"

 _"Cause...uh..."_ She goes quiet again

"Cause you hate me?"

 _"Uh. Cause...you're a Hufflepuff! And Hufflepuffs do anything to help their friends."_ She states childishly.

He's taken aback for a moment, the memory of taking that Pottermore quiz after being cornered into it by those three kids. And his results, Jesus, he could barely remember getting Hufflepuff, and she recalls it as if it's the most well known of facts.

"What is it you wish for me to do, my dearest Gryffindor?" He questions, his tone strong and drawn out, as if reading a line from a Shakespeare play.

 _"Your dearest Gryffindor?"_

"Are you avoiding the question?"

She takes a few seconds to reply. _"N-No! No! Just-I need a drive to school."_

"And Kenny or Katjaa can't do this?"

 _"Katjaa's working, and Kenny's-an ass when he wakes up. And you know who isn't working and isn't an ass?"_

"Me?"

 _"You."_ She confirms. He can hear the smile in her voice.

He's out the door twenty minutes later, he's come to realize Clementine's quite talented at sweet talking people into doing things for her, either that or he was just an easy person to manipulate. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure it's the later.

Once in his car, he watches from his rearview mirror as she comes out of the door of her house, wearing jeans and some band hoodie he doesn't recognize, if he had of forgotten she was a teenager, the band hoodie would have reminded him. She's not wearing the hat he's seen her in all these years, it might be the first time he's ever seen her without it. She has her backpack, as well as a second duffle bag that she puts in the backseat of his car before opening and sitting in the passenger's seat.

"Can I just say, this is such an upgrade from Kenny's truck." She says in greeting.

"Yeah, barely had it for a year after I bought it off him till it broke down." He turns the keys in the ignition and the car rumbles to a start. "Sorry to say this and don't tell Kenny, but I think he scammed me."

"Oh yeah, he definitely scammed you, I can't believe you fell for it too, I was like twelve and I could still tell he was bullshitting you."

He can appreciate the honesty.

"You go to Athens Academy, right?"

"Yeah."

After the car comes to a halt at a stop sign, he eyes her attire up and down before returning his sights to the road, the car going forward again. "Isn't it like, preppy? Ya know with...uniforms?"

"Yeah, ugly ass uniforms, mind you."

"An ugly ass uniform you should probably be wearing?"

There are no signs of surprise, she picks up the backpack by her feet and opens it. "It's in here." She announces, pulling out the collection of wrinkled fabrics, practically screaming for an ironing job that he doubts would be able to save it at this point.

"So..." His voice trails off awkwardly, regarding the teenager with an arched brow as she unfurls the uniform's pleated green skirt. "You're not plannin' on changin' in here, right?"

"No!" She screeches, letting her head fall into the soft clothing in her hands. "You wish!"

"I _do not_ wish! I'm _just_ checkin'."

She faces the window, notably quiet as she nibbles on her bottom lip. "I'm giving them back." She says simply.

"Givin' em back for what?"

"Giving them back for...ever? I dropped out last week."

His eyebrows shoot up in revelation. "Dropped out? Why?"

"I'm pregnant."

He loses control of the vehicle for just a moment, the car swerving around the relatively empty roads before finding its balance again. "P-Pregnant? Seriously?"

She doesn't say anything, and his eyes are far from the road so he can give her a begging stare. "Y-You're serious?"

She slumps back into her seat, unbothered. "Luke, don't crash the car. I'm joking."

His shoulders slump, he feels like he should've known that, he could never imagine her in such a situation, not even accidentally. But the shock of her confession made the whole thing fly right by him. Not only that, but she seems to be quite the fan of teasing him, something that has been a trait of hers since her youth. Maybe she would joke around with him less if he weren't so gullible. He exhales a breath. "So, you're not pregnant, and you're not droppin' out?"

"No, I'm still dropping out." She explains. "But I'm not pregnant. Like seriously, dude, I've never even had a boyfriend before."

He brushes past her last comment, not thinking much of it. "Why are you droppin' out then?"

"I need to focus on skating, it's more important."

He parks the car in a space right near the school grounds, and she asks him to stay in his spot while she returns her school belongings, and he does.

Luke would have never thought he'd hear such words out of the girl's mouth. Sure, ice skating had always been a passion of hers, and it was one of the biggest priorities in her life, but never to such a level as this. At least, it didn't seem that way. Although, the last time he was seriously discussing figure skating with her; she was eleven, with many different interests and hobbies, and not skating so much she was breaking her legs.

If he had a say, he'd tell her this was a bad idea, he'd advise her to stay until she got her diploma, just in case anything were to happen. It's not that he didn't believe abilities and talents, but any career in sports was a hard one to obtain, and he still hasn't had the chance to see her skating for himself, he has no way of judging her capabilities. But he keeps that to himself, not only is the action already done, but he didn't want to cloud her thoughts with his rare pessimistic feelings toward the matter.

Besides, he was optimistic about many things, she knew that. He shouldn't be doubting her. If Clementine was anything, she was resilient.

After a couple minutes of waiting, and nearly falling asleep, he hears a tapping on the car window to the right of him that has him boost from his seat. Clementine stands by the door and Luke rushes to hit the button that will unlock it for her.

She chastises him for nearly falling asleep, but other than that, silently observes the cars, people, and trees from outside the window. She was good at making it clear when and when not she was in the mood for a conversation, and not wanting to annoy her, he focuses on the road.

School had been so important to him growing up, he may not have been the perfect student, with his B average and 3.4 GPA, but so many memories had been made for him in his last few years of highschool, and he couldn't imagine missing out on that, for any circumstance.

He drives into his own driveway and watches from the corner of his eye as Clementine gets up from the position she had stuck to for the majority of the drive, stretching her arms and opening the car door.

She slouches over from where she's standing to look at him through the open window. "Thanks for doing this, I know it sucks to wake up so early."

"No problem. I think I might have needed a drive anyway." He says vaguely, hoping she won't request a further explanation from him.

Her eyebrows raise, her eyes moving to the side, she looks as if she's about to ask but she doesn't, nodding before moving as if she's about to leave.

"-Don't forget the bag." The duffle bag, he had noticed her not bring it in when she went into the school, and made a note to make sure it wasn't forgotten.

She takes a quick glance of the backseat, amber irises returning to him as her lips raise into a gentle smile. "That's for you."

There's a sweetness in her voice that he isn't used to, and it worries him slightly. "It's a bomb, isn't it?"

 _"Maaaaaaaaaybe."_ She hums. "You'll just have to find out!" She flips around and walks down his driveway before he can convince her to stay any longer.

* * *

It was the hat. That goddamn hat.

The bag had also been filled with tons of baked goods, like cookies and brownies, which after eating, he recognized as Katjaa's baking. There was a long, yellow scarf, with thin black stripes, it was a couple weeks until it hit him one day while looking at the tag that it was Harry Potter themed merchandise, specifically Hufflepuff.

The blue and white baseball cap, with a bold cursive D in the middle was the thing that stuck out to him the most. The best assumption he could make was that she didn't want it anymore, but he would've thought it'd be thrown out, not given to him. Even if he couldn't figure out why she'd want to hand it down to him, or what to do with it now that it was his, he kept it on the dresser in his room, but never wore it.

He didn't see her for a very, very long time. Two years to be exact.

He didn't want it to end up this way, he tried to message her, and he greeted her whenever they'd catch one another outside their respective houses, but his messages were either unread or ignored, and their greetings were brief. He just couldn't wrap his head around what was happening to them.

He thought that day would be the last time he truly had the chance to meet and speak with her, but he was proven wrong the day he got an email from her address. Or more formally, an invitation.

 _Good Evening!_

 _On Friday, March 9th, the Queens Recreation Center will be holding their tenth annual Spring Figure Skating Show, to which I'll be a participating, and kindly request that you attend. Tickets are $10 this year, snacks and drinks are sold separately for prices ranging between $2-$5. Thank you for your time! Please consider attending, I will greatly appreciate it._

 _Email me in advance if you plan on coming. If you have any inquiries feel free to contact this email or the email on the Queens Figure Skating Club website._

 _Best Regards,_

 _Clementine Hutchinson._

His answer is short, and skips over all the professional speel Clementine had added to hers.

 _I'll be there._

He can tell by the multiple emails on the sent list, that the email was meant for more people than just him. He isn't sure how to feel about her sudden choice to contact him after so long, but he doesn't intend on missing out on it.

Life had not been the best for him in recent years, many things had changed for him. With the departure of Clementine, followed Nick's announcement that he'd be leaving in the next couple of months. He and Stephanie are moving in together, and not just that, but returning to Tennessee. It might just be true that Nick wanted to be home all along, and only remained in Athens for the sake of not having to say goodbye to his best friend.

Luke was hoping that wouldn't be the case.

He wants to be happy for him, he _is_ happy for him. But Luke hasn't felt so... _lonely_ in a long time.

The day of the figure skating show, Nick decides now's the time he wants to start buying furniture for him and Stephanie's house up in Tennessee, and it seems Luke and Vince are along for the ride. A short ride, because the most Nick is definitive on buying is an outdoor dining set before he's already exhausted and wanting to go home.

They're in line when a display of colorful bouquets catch Luke's eye, and cause him to drift from his other two friends and grab the first set of flowers he sees. He's seen very little of Olympic figure skating, but if there is anything he has knowledge on regarding it, it's flowers. Precisely, the fact they're often given to (or more accurately hysterically thrown at) figure skaters after their performances.

"Woah there," he hears the voice of Vince as the shorter man comes toward him. "What's the special occasion?" He asks, eyeing the floral arrangements with a smirk.

He isn't sure how exactly he should explain the situation, so he keeps things vague. "Don't worry about it."

Vince is quick to concede. "Don't want me to know about it? Fine. But can I at least ask that you choose _any_ other bouquet than that one."

"Since when were you a floral connoisseur?" Nick adds.

"Hey, I buy a lot of flowers, girls tend to like them."

The tall man turns away. "Alrighty, womanizer."

Luke stares at the bouquet in his hand. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Lavender draws too many bugs...and it's just... _too_ much." He swiftly takes it from his hand and returns it to its original spot. His dark eyes search through the selection, a hand settling thoughtfully on his chin. After what feels like forever, he chooses a plain bouquet of white roses, no more no less.

He arches a brow, he doesn't see what would make that his ideal choice, all the other bouquets are bursting with bright and beautiful colors, and the simplicity of the white is easily overshadowed in comparison.

"Everyone loves these, man. They're simple, they're easy, but still beautiful. No way you can go wrong."

From how he describes it, Luke can tell he's assuming he's purchasing them for a date. He has the urge to correct him, but is held back by the long-winded explanation he can already imagine himself having to give.

He goes along with it, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

Vince smiles. "Not a problem."

* * *

"Are these for Clem?"

Earthy eyes stay on the wide ice rink until he hears the sharp sounds of plastic, as Duck, sitting beside him, crudely grasps onto the bouquet of roses. He squints at it, maneuvering it without care, side to side and even upside down.

Luke places his hand below the roses before they can slip from the plastic, while his other hand removes the flowers from Duck's possession. "Duck, Jesus-"

 _"Ken."_ He corrects.

Oh...right.

He knew it was only a matter of time until Du... _Ken_ was going to grow out of his childhood nickname, but that didn't mean it was gonna be any easier for Luke to adjust to. The second he spots the Hammon family in the bleachers, Katjaa and her son are quick to call him and invite him to sit, he sits on the end, between Ken and the stairway to the lower bleachers, and the name change is one of the very first things Ken is sure to tell him.

Katjaa, Kenny, and Ken. Jeez, Ken really didn't have much to work with, he'll never be able to comprehend a parent's choice to give their kid the same name. Adding 'junior', or 'the second' to it, does not make it any better. It seems it was either Ken or Kenneth. He's glad he chose Ken.

"Sorry, Ken."

Katjaa speaks then. "You got flowers too, Luke?"

Obscured by her husband, Luke leans over to spot the bouquet sitting on her lap, it's similar to the one he chose before Vince had intervened, but the flowers are clearly of a different type. Now that he's paying attention, he can see another bouquet with Kenny, sunflowers.

Maybe the white roses were too much? He knew he shouldn't have trusted Vince.

"Can I see them?" The woman asks.

Luke is quick to comply, handing the item to the woman.

"Oh." She coos in delight, smiling as she inhales the fresh flowers. "White roses? How beautiful. She'll love them."

As Katjaa passes them back, and as he takes them, he spots Ken, with his mouth tightly shut, as if trying to restrain himself.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Ken practically squeaks back, turning to his mother and mumbling to her. _"Clementine's gonna freak!"_

"Ken, stop it." she hisses.

Ken was nineteen, but Luke can barely find any difference between Ken and the twelve-year-old boy who once called himself Duck. Though, he bared very little of physical similarities to his younger self. Ken's hair, which had once been a simple brunette buzzcut, darkened into the black that his father shared before the majority of his hair had gone grey. It was the tiniest bit shorter than Luke's, thick and unkempt, his bangs just barely obscuring his eyes.

When he had first arrived, Ken was already in his seat, but he _seemed_ tall. With his length, slender proportions and messy raven hair, he almost resembles Nick. Either way, he certainly looked like a nineteen-year-old, the next step was acting like it.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." Came a female voice, booming and echoing through the arena. There stands Clementine's coach, in the middle of the rink with a microphone in hand. Christa, he believed her name was. Luke was acquainted with the woman briefly, but she appears no different from all those years ago, the same tall and confident posture, and tight bun securing her hair.

As the crowd slowly goes silent, Christa clears her throat. "Welcome to the Spring Figure Skating Show! My name's Christa Thomas, and I'm one of the registered coaches at Queens Figure Skating Club, and the lead organizer for this event. I'd like to take the chance to thank all our performers for working hard to make this event fantastic! And most of all, thank you all for showing up today. This show would be nothing without our wonderful audience of family and friends. I hope you enjoy."

Luke follows the crowd in applauding the older woman as she skates off the rink and, after a few seconds, the bright lights of the bleachers begin to dim, but the ice remains brightly lit.

Ken practically throws the brochure onto his lap, muttering something about having forgotten to give it to him when he first arrived.

Opening it, Luke quickly recognizes it as the show's program, and skims through the names within.

 _Announcer: Clinton Barnes_

 _Lead Organizer and Routine Choreographer: Christa Thomas_

 _Stage Manager: Omid Thomas_

 _Costume Designer: Dee Jones_

 _Performers: (in order of appearance)_

 _Clementine Hutchinson._

He puts the program down before he can read on, whipping his head around to his side. "Clementine's first?"

Ken looks over at him, sucking the straw to his soda and meeting Luke with blinking eyes. Before he can respond, a loud male voice echoes over the speakers.

"First up, we have Clementine Hutchinson, skating to "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri." The announcer says, answering the question for him.

The place where they're sitting isn't far from the rink, so Luke is quick to spot Clementine skating smoothly toward the center of the ice. Wearing all white, it shines brightly under the lights of the ice rink, and contrasts nicely with her smooth dark skin. Her curly hair is put into a bun, many dark bouncy curls rest along the sides of her face and the back of her neck, it appears disheveled, but in a way that still looks intended and appealing to the eye.

She poses, waiting for the music to start, and once it does, she twirls out of her position and begins to move fluidly around the rink.

 _Heart beats fast,_

 _Colours and promises,_

 _How to be brave,_

 _How can I love when I'm afraid to fall_

As the lyrics begin, her movements are simple, she twirls around the rink and makes graceful motions with her arms and legs, none of it can be delegated to actual dance or figure skating moves at this point, but it goes along nicely with the music, and draws his eyes to her.

 _But watching you stand alone,_

 _All of my doubt,_

 _Suddenly goes away somehow,_

She glides into a one-legged spin, her body blurring as her spin gains momentum and her arm reaches out to the ceiling, her eyes follow her hand, and they convey a longing as she stares above her as the spin slows down. Luke feels the corners of his lip rise into a smile, she's doing splendidly already, and he can't find it in him to look away from her, not even for a second.

As the music reaches the chorus, she starts to explore the other areas of the large body of ice, skating quickly over to the other side of the rink and at one point performing a spinning jump he wouldn't know the name of, and once she lands it, her legs point out elegantly.

Luke notices the way the train of her costume sparkles, and the way the costume is clinging to her as she performs her jumps and spins. Who was the costume designer again? Deedee or something. Either way, he's impressed with the costume choice, cause as Clementine smoothly skates around the rink wearing the pure white garments, she looks like some kind of angel, and it suits the song wonderfully.

Even so, all of that would be worthless if it weren't for Clementine's portrayal, even from the distance between the seats and the ice, she's so expressive he can both see and in a way _feel_ the emotions she's meant to emit. Longing, desire, passion, infatuation, it's all there.

 _I have loved you for a thousand years,_

 _I'll love you for a thousand more,_

Luke becomes lost in his thought as the song come to end, eyes remaining on Clementine as he thinks to himself.

She kept her promise.

 _"Next time. I promise. The first chance I get."_

 _"I'm gonna try. It might take a long time, but I will. One day, I'm going to perform in front of you, too._ "

She's true to her word, that's for sure, the thought strengthens his smile, and as Clementine's skates come to a halt in the center of the rink, posing with her arms wrapped around herself, he feels the soreness of his face from smiling so hard.

Knowing her for as long as he has, knowing all the fears she must have had before performing from the last time she had invited him to the show, knowing all her struggles, he's so incredibly proud. With the song coming to an end, he claps enthusiastically, along with the rest of the audience.

She stays in position for a few more seconds, but after awhile, lets herself relax as her arms return to their sides. Her body faces their side of the arena, and he's shocked by how quickly her eyes seem to find her family amongst the crowd, he watches her wave toward Kenny and Katjaa, and notices the exact moment she can see him. Her eyebrows shoot up, and her expression drops slightly, as if taking the moment to process his presence, he does the same to her.

His head snaps back into what's going on, remembering the roses he had bought and rushing to grab them. She's smiling at him, they're making direct eye contact now, he can't be sure, but he's confident they are, he's almost certain. And with that thought, he takes the best shot he can, throwing it with a loud _'woosh'_ sound.

"Luke!" Ken shouts, muffled by the applause. his hand follows the bouquet and nearly clasps onto it but comes out overall unsuccessful, as the flowers fly over them and to the rink.

His aim isn't the best, it heads far toward Clementine's left, but she's quick to jump into action, gliding over to it and extending her arms so it just barely falls into her arms.

"Clementine Hutchinson." The announcer says dryly, signaling Clementine to bow, she obeys accordingly, holding his bouquet of white roses close to her as she does so.

She skates out of the rink as the clapping slows, and he can see Ken flipping his head over to him, and turns his head slowly to meet the man's gaze, preparing for whatever was in store. Ken stares for several seconds, before he snorts unashamedly, his lips pulled together for a quick moment before they release into a maniacal laughter.

Luke blinks.

"Did you hear how annoyed the announcer was!? You just like, did it! No fucks given, I admire that." When he isn't given any response, the man pauses. "You know you weren't allowed to do that right?"

"Do what?"

"Throw the damn bouquet! It's on the sign out front and everything!"

He thinks the kid's just trying to screw with him at first, but just then he comes to notice the two bouquets still with Kenny and Katjaa, it hadn't been thrown like his bouquet was. When he unfolds the program once again for confirmation, his eyes catch the very first rule quickly.

 _Regulations:_

 _1\. Throwing objects of any kind toward the rink or skaters is strongly prohibited, doing so will result in a request to leave the premises_

"..."

"..."

"...I _tried_ to stop you."

* * *

The cheers, applause, and music that had once brought a ringing in his ears within the crowded arena, was now just barely audible to him, masked by the thick white walls of the changing room. It was a large room, but the way the glaring walls surrounded him felt confining.

Clementine sat across from him on the benches, adorned in the glittering outfit he had witnessed her in on stage. He takes several looks at her as she goes through the process of unpinning her bun, pulling out pins and accessories as strands of hair slowly fall into place.

Clementine had welcomed him into the empty changing room after being escorted out of the arena for throwing that bouquet.

 _Standing outside in the damp weather, he hears the sound of one of the backstage doors opening from behind him, turning to see the young woman smiling wide at him. "Hey you!" She says cheerfully._

 _He stumbles a bit, he hadn't expected to come across her like this, but his face quickly rests into a comfortable smile that she mirrors. "Clem..."_

 _"Ken texted me, come inside."_

 _He follows her without objection. She apologizes that he was sent away by security, and explains that they had an issue with objects being thrown into the rink the previous year, though, those objects were things like trash and haphazard material, not something as harmless as a few flowers. He still isn't really able to accept it, but he admires her effort to defend her company._

 _"Am I allowed to be in here?"_

 _"I mean..." She plays with a stray curl. "Technically no. But as long as you stay here with me, I can back you up and keep them from taking you out again."_

 _"How about, uh, being in a changeroom?"_

 _"Once again, technically no, but no one's using this changeroom but me, and I don't mind waiting until you can leave."_

 _He nods. "Thanks."_

 _He can't think of much more to say other than that, and it seems neither can_ she, _because from then on, they both stay silent. She moves her hands awkwardly and he can tell she's trying to avoid his gaze by checking her phone or temporarily going to another area of the changing room that obscures her from his vision._

 _He's almost shameless in the way he doesn't look away from her when she happens to glance at him, incapable of fighting her curiosity. She's quick to break the eye contact he tries to hold. She's nervous, obviously. The effect of the years spent without conversation. As headstrong as she is, it isn't something he's used to from her._

Despite that, she speaks first. "Thanks for these."

Reminiscing about the series of events from only minutes ago, he didn't notice when she had taken his white rose bouquet into her arms. Despite all the drama that had sprouted out of the simple bouquet, he can't deny that it was a wonderful choice, good in a way that even Vince couldn't have been aware of. It blends in with her outfit, matching it completely.

"No problem at all."

"Worth getting kicked out of a recreation center for?"

"You tell me."

She brings the roses up to her face, examining them for only a few seconds before giving him a gentle smile. "Yes."

"Good."

The timid curve of her lips shift into a grin he's more familiar with, fulfillment in her eyes. "I told you you'd see me skate one day."

"I know..." He chuckles. "-and you were amazing, I'm real glad I had the chance to see it for myself."

They sit like that for a while, catching up on things that have happened to them since they last spoke. It's in this moment Luke comes to terms with the fact his life has been about as uneventful as it could be, other than Nick moving, and his promotion to manager at the barely above minimum wage job he's had for the last seven years, he can't come up with anything interesting that will entertain her.

Clementine has a lot to talk about, but keeps it brief nevertheless, leaving it to simple statements. Last year, Sarah had left Athens to attend Harvard University, and at the same time, Clementine became Georgia's best up and coming figure skater, winning gold at regionals and the same in nationals the next year, and he listens intently to all of it.

"Speaking of which..." She begins, shifting a little bit on the bench. "I wanted to...ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Figure skating World Championships are...next year, in Italy! And it's a big deal! For me at least cause...well, first of all, they're championships! People from all over the world are coming, but they're also going to be looking for people to...represent in the Olympics. So, if I do good...I could compete in the Winter Olympics!" The tones in her voice shift as she speaks, between determined, timid and stuttering, and excited, The palms of her hands dig into her knees, shaking as she tugs at her tights. "Um, yeah it's...big, I guess. And well, I was just wondering if..." A pause. "I know it's been awhile since me and you spoke and stuff but it would mean...it would mean the world to me if you came."

His lips part and his eyes stare back at her, wide and questionable. She can't be asking what he thinks she's asking, can she? They hadn't spoken in years, why would she offer him such a thing?

She blinks back at him before beginning to fiddle with her skirt. "Uh...I...You wouldn't have to pay! I'll pay for your plane ticket, and hotel room, and championship ticket. I mean...if you wanna go, you don't have to go...I guess? No, wait, I'm not trying to...I mean...shit...I don't know how to do this."

"Yes."

The anxiety in her expression melts away into confusion. "Huh?"

"Yes! Just...yes. I wanna go! Wow...I can't believe you're inviting me, I'm honored."

A blush blooms across her cheeks, and she punches in the shoulder playfully. "Honored?"

"I'm serious. I can't believe you're asking me."

"Of course I'd ask you."

All the commotion from the arena seems to go quiet for awhile as they hear Christa announce the show's end and thank everyone for coming. Clementine gets up to leave and beckons Luke to follow her so they can meet up with Kenny, Katjaa, and Ken.

They pass through multiple skaters to get to the main hall, they're even stopped by Omid, who greets Luke and compliments Clementine on her performance.

Once they finally get to the entrance, the Hammons are standing to the side waiting for them. They exchanged words of support and encouragement with Clementine that brought a smile to Luke's lips.

Katjaa brings her into a hug. "You were wonderful!"

Once out of Katjaa's embrace, Kenny gives her a silent pat on the back, smiling widely, his feelings clear on his face.

"What did he say?" Ken whispers into her ear unashamedly, peeking at Luke.

She flicks at her adopted brother's forehead. "Yes, he's going."

Ken's attention returned to Luke, squinting. "You better go! She didn't even invite _us!"_

"I only got two tickets, and one's for Jane."

"So? Who gives a shit about Jane? We're family!"

"You guys are coming for the Olympics, Ken, I promise."

* * *

 _"Your technique is sloppy!"_

 _"Slow down!"_

 _"If you're still falling out of basic jumps like those, you're never gonna make it through the Championship, let alone Olympics."_

Her muscles are burning and crying for her to take a break, they had been for the last hour. As much as she wants to continue and eventually give Jane the perfect run through of her routine, she knows continuing to ignore the pain coursing through her body will only make things worse for her.

She slows down her skating, her heart pumping faster than her mind can process the words she wants to say. "J-Jane...Can we take a break, _please?"_

The brunette woman puts a hand on her hip, a deadpan expression on her face that Clementine prays won't twist into agitation or disappointment. "Fine, you look like you're about to pass out."

"Shit."

"That's good."

"How is _'being on the verge passing out'_ good?"

Jane ignores the infuriated tone in her voice, passing her metal water bottle to her. "It shows how much you care. I wouldn't be wasting my time with you if you weren't ready to faint for it."

She's not sure if she should say _'thank you_ ',' _sorry_ ', or both, so she interrupts her own thoughts by gulping down the contents of her water bottle, only stopping to take a few breaths.

"Are you mad at me?" Jane asks, but Clementine knows she doesn't actually care what the answer's gonna be.

"No! Of course not!"

"I know I can be a little harsh when I'm teaching, but just know I do it for your own good. You need to be at your best for the World Championship, and with the last routine you showed me, we got a long way to go."

Clementine falters slightly, giggling to hide her hurt. "But Christa said she thought the last one was really good..."

"Clem, we discussed this." Jane groaned, snatching the water bottle from Clementine's hands before she can take another sip of it. "Christa isn't...a figure skating coach...I mean, she is. But not _really._ She's one of the best when it comes to making gross thumb-sucking toddlers into skaters, but that's it, her teaching ends there. She doesn't know how to make an ordinary figure skater into an _Olympic_ figure skater."

She looks away, her vision slightly blurred and dizzy, still trying to recover from how hard she had been pushing herself minutes before. "I know, I know."

"I'm still trying to hook you up with my new coach, Joan, but you gotta be ready for every part of you and your skating to be nitpicked and scrutinized. I'm _child's play_ compared to Joan."

 _Can I have my water bottle back?_ She wants to ask, but can't find it in herself to let it out.

"Hello? Hello? Excuse me?" Both women switch their gazes over to the entrance of the rink, and see a dark-skinned middle-aged woman standing there with a young child by her side. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Clementine glides over to them. "No! What is it you need?"

"My name's Rebecca and I wanted to ask about your company's figure skating classes, something for beginners? He's been begging me to sign him up for figure skating classes since his birthday."

She nibbles on her lip. "Sorry, you'll have to go to Christa for that, today's her day off, could you come back tomorrow?"

The woman opens her mouth to speak, but pauses for a moment as Clementine comes closer. "Your name's Clementine, right? We saw you at the figure skating show, my son was a big fan, right AJ? Say 'hello'." She gently pushes AJ closer to her, but he doesn't speak, he can only look at the ground timidly, hiding behind his mother shortly after. "Sorry, he's shy."

"It's okay..." The sides of Clementine's mouth raise, the kid was too cute for words. A fondness for children had long ago grown in her heart, an affection that likely would have never existed had it not been for the pre-school skating classes she's helped Christa with since turning fourteen. "It's nice to meet you, AJ" she looks up toward his mother, "How old is he?"

"He just turned seven."

"That's a little old to be signing up for beginner figure skating classes." Jane cuts in, the younger of the two had been so distracted by the mother and son that she didn't even notice Jane approaching.

"Really?" Rebecca's face goes sour. "I didn't think that'd be a problem."

"I-It isn't..."

"It is if he wants a career. Clementine and I started when we were three."

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to force a three-year-old to do something they might not even like, or want."

She swears she had something to say that could have calmed the rising heat of the conversation, but it's completely lost on her tongue. Rebecca's words make something lurch deep within her stomach, and she puts a palm on her aching abdomen, trying to heal these ill feelings inside her.

 _No._

 _Stop thinking._

 _Stop it. Stop it._

 _They're looking at you. Say something._

"Clem?" Jane says, but she's so out of it she can't even respond.

 _You love figure skating._

 _You've always loved figure skating_

 _You're a figure skater._

"I...love figure skating."

They all give her odd looks, confused by her actions and change in attitude. She barely notices the fact the words slipped from her lips like that, but she's able to come up with a continuation that will save herself.

"-Which is why...AJ should sign up, even if he's a little older. Perseverance is what it really takes to be a figure skater, if you work hard, you can do anything."

Rebecca's dark eyes glare from Clementine to the taller woman, smirking. "I agree."

Jane lets out a huff, making no attempt to hide her eye roll, skating away from the entrance and back onto the rink, leaving the matter to Clementine.

The forced smile comes easily to her. "We'll be glad to have you, I'll tell Christa to look out for you guys tomorrow."

* * *

Luke coughs as a spec of the cologne he's spraying on himself finds it's way onto his tongue, the bitter taste overpowering his tongue as he runs to the kitchen for something to get the taste out of his mouth.

"Hurry up, Luke! The party starts in twenty minutes!" Nick calls, all Luke can do in response is chug the first soda he finds in their fridge.

It was incredibly bewildering for Nick to invite Luke to a party.

It was even more bewildering that Luke didn't want to go.

Luke can't consider himself the type of crazy partygoer who gets blackout drunk the first hour in, but he did enjoy having the chance to talk with people, listen to music, and forget about his problems. He was invited to quite a few during his year in college, and believe it or not, being able to play the guitar at a party makes you quite popular with the ladies. He was liked by most, but for those who didn't, they called him a kiss-ass, and Luke can't exactly say he wasn't.

Who doesn't like to please people? Who doesn't like having people like them? He certainly didn't.

Nick used to ask him how he was so charismatic and easy to like for people, and he found it hard to figure out why exactly anyone would have trouble _not_ getting people to like them. He was just nice and talked about things people were interested in, it's not hard.

Or at least it used to be. Because the idea of having to leave his house and pretend to be interested in topics he wasn't, isn't the most ideal for him. Not to mention, Clementine had made plans for them to meet up for lunch, along with Ken, and the last thing he wanted was to be hungover or tipsy around two people he's known since they were in middle school.

Usually, it would be him dragging Nick to parties, it felt weird the other way around.

Jesus, he's thirty-one. He doesn't have time to party like he's ten years younger than he is. Not anymore.

But Nick's only a couple of weeks away from moving out of Athens back to their hometown, so he swallows his pride and accepts the invitation.

When they arrive, he loses himself in the crowd immediately, unable to find both Nick and Stephanie amongst the dozens of people within the house. He doesn't even know whose house it is, and none of the people there are the least bit recognizable. Nick got word of the party from Stephanie, who got word from her best friend, Shel (who Stephanie tried to matchmake him with once, they never got past the first date, long story), who apparently got word from someone who knew someone related to the party thrower.

He doesn't want to get drunk, he was seeing Clementine and Ken tomorrow, and he tries to abstain, he really does. But half an hour in, he's grabbing a beer from the cooler before he can convince himself otherwise. He defends his actions by telling himself at least he's not drinking something like vodka or whiskey.

"Beer? Really? That's a pussy drink."

It's not even that funny, but he still laughs, turning to the speaker.

There's a cup of what he can assume is rum in the woman's hand, her pixie cut of hair spikes up in places that seem intentionally styled that way, she even has a silver hair clip that pulls strands of brunette bangs out of her face. Her lips pucker as her dark irises eye him up and down, her expression vague and hard to read.

...

He knows this person.

He's seen her before.

He analyzes her face curiously, trying to solve the puzzle in his head.

"Wow, you're bad at this." She says.

"Wait...what?"

"God, at least try and call me cute or something."

His brows furrow, he's not really embarrassed, he's still trying to comprehend who the woman was and what she was even trying to say to him. "Uh...sorry."

"I guess I can give you credit for not staring at my boobs, that's a first."

With that comment, his eyes automatically respond, completely out of his control, falling down to her chest. The V-shaped neckline of her shirt goes down far into her chest, making her cleavage pronounced and very noticeable, he's even surprised his eyes hadn't gone there at first. He'd even give himself props if he could. Not that it matters now, cause the moment it's brought to his attention, he can't look away.

"Nevermind."

His eyes shoot back up, and he tries his hardest to keep his gaze with her eyes. "Fuck. Sorry."

"I don't mind, I wore this shirt for a reason." She smirks, taking a sip of her rum before continuing. "But what are you doing at _my_ party drinking _beer?_ I only bring that stuff here for the little bitches who don't know how to drink. And don't lie to me, Clementine told me you were a drinker."

Clementine?

"I hear whiskey's your favourite, or at least the drink she sees you with the most, there's whiskey right there."

Clementine?

...Wait.

"Are you...Jane?"

She nods slowly. "And you're Luke, right?"

He returns the nod.

"It would be awkward if you weren't."

He'd only ever seen Jane once, and it wasn't even in conversation, it was at the firework show with Clementine years ago. The memories of it flood his head, he loved that day, remembering how enthusiastic Clementine, Ken, and Sarah had been about him coming, how much they wanted him there, and how happy they were once he came. He's glad they made him, cause the fireworks seem to entrance him that day, they were beautiful, so much better than the ones they had in Tennesee.

The memory sours when he recalls Jane, or more accurately her treatment of Clementine. She hadn't been malicious or mean, really, the interaction between the two of them had brought a bright smile to Clementine's face that he hadn't seen from her in years. He hated the way Jane looked at her as if she were dirt on her shoe, with no interest or care in her eyes. He doesn't think it'd bother him as much if it weren't for the fact Clementine had _no idea,_ just smiling at her ignorantly without a second thought.

God, he was so pissed that night.

It brings a fire in him as he grips onto his bottle of beer, trying to keep his expression from twisting into something not as friendly.

"I gotta go."

"Wait! Hey!"

She follows him as he brushes past the crowds of people, hoping she'll lose him amongst all the faces and leave him alone, but she doesn't. He makes it to the other side of the room before she grabs his shoulder, but he pulls away.

"You..." She's infuriated now, her lips shut tight as her eyes shoot daggers at him. "You can't just do that to a girl! That's a dick move, buddy! The fuck is your problem?"

"I can't just do what? I _told_ you I was leaving." He says, trying to keep his voice as unnerved as possible.

"You can't leave a girl hanging. I don't exactly hit on _anyone,_ show a little respect. Reject me like a man if you don't want me."

She's been _hitting_ on him? Luke's been flirted with before, and he's flirted with others before, but he wouldn't exactly take being called a _'pussy'_ as flirting.

He feels a few eyes from the party linger on the two, but tries to think nothing on it, taking a deep breath and trying to remain calm. "It's not that."

"So you do want me?"

"I..." he sighs. "There's something that's...really been getting to me, about you. Can I ask?"

"Sure." She offers him a bottle of whiskey he didn't notice she was carrying. "If you drink some whiskey."

He barely hesitates, taking the bottle from her a popping open the cap, downing the drink.

He doesn't remember what happened after that. All he remembers is waking up seeing Jane, naked and rushing around his room in search of her own clothes, and glancing at his nightstand to see several missed calls from Clementine. Truth of the matter was, he drank a lot more than _some_ _whiskey._


	5. V

A/N: So I'm going to start off by saying that this chapter is pretty dark and depressing for the majority of it, I'm saying this cause I know a ton of people, including myself, who sometimes aren't in the moodset to read something extremely sad or angsty. If you're looking for something cheerful, this chapter isn't the place to get it. If you don't want to read angsty writing right now, then feel free to leave this chapter until you feel ready. This chapter was pretty hard to write for the emotional aspects of it, it was hard to take in even for me. Just wanna say thank you for those who have been reading this story, it means so much to me, and I'll try my hardest give you something worthwhile to enjoy in return.

I'm not doing review responses today, no other reason then that as I'm publishing this, I have quite the headache and don't feel like it's gonna pass any time soon. I promise to respond to the next responses though. If you enjoy this story, please review! Even if it's something as short as "I like this," or criticisms, it means a lot to me and inspires me to keep writing and improving this story.

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Alcoholism, Serious Injury, Implied Sexual Intercourse while Intoxicated.

* * *

 **Update: 12/13/14**

Temporarily deleted so I can tweak a few things.

* * *

Playlist:

1\. The Love Club by Lorde

2\. Youth by Daughter

3\. Prey by The Neighbourhood

4\. Stomach It by Crywolf

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 5

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

 _[05/27/17]_

 _[10:32am]_

 _Clementine: Ken and I are here._

 _Clementine: Where are you?_

 _[10:55am]_

 _Clementine: Luke?_

 _Clementine_ : ?

 _Clementine: Luke?_

 _[11:23am]_

 _Clementine: Are you coming?_

 _Clementine: Ken and I have to go soon._

 _[05/28/17]_

 _[12:54pm]_

 _Clementine: What happened?_

 _Clementine: Can you call me?_

 _Clementine: Luke, I'm worried, can you please call me?_

She doesn't hear a word from him for a week.

She's sitting with Jane on a Saturday afternoon, hanging out and discussing the Championship over lunch. Sipping her milkshake lazily, she sees her phone light up from the corner of her eye. She only means to take a momentary glance at it, but the second she sees Luke's name pop up on her notifications, she jumps at the chance to unlock her phone and check it out.

 _[06/03/17]_

 _[1:12pm]_

 _Luke: Sorry. My phone was broken for awhile._

 _Luke: I had a fever that morning._

 _Luke: I've actually been really sick this whole week._

 _Clementine: Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea._

 _Luke: It's no problem! I'm sorry too._

 _Clementine: I hope you get better soon! Would you mind if I drop by at your house later to see how you're doing? Can I bring some medicine or soup or something?_

 _Luke: No no it's okay_

 _Clementine: I don't mind! You'd do it if it were me._

He takes a while to answer, Clementine taps on the table restlessly until she hears her phone buzz.

 _[1:20pm]_

 _Luke: Nick and Stephanie are still in the middle of moving out. So, it'll be really hectic if you show up. But thanks for offering, we'll hang out soon!_

 _Clementine: Ok! Can't wait! I miss you._

The message sends, she bites her lip. _"Can't wait!"? "I miss you."?_ Jeez, she's way too much.

She deletes it and tries again, crossing her fingers that Luke hadn't already checked the message.

"Clem?"

 _Clementine: Ok! See you then._

"Clem?"

 _Clementine: Get well soon._

"Clem!"

"Huh? What?" She looks up from her phone to see Jane leaning over the table, snapping her fingers near Clementine's ears to grab her attention. She swats the intrusive hand away with a smile. "Sorry, got distracted."

Jane grimaces, leaning against the bright red diner booth. "What's up?"

She takes one of her curls and pushes it behind her ear. "I just got a text from Luke, he's been sick for the past week." She answers honestly.

The older woman starts to snicker. "Oh, I bet. Considering he wouldn't stop drinking his ass off at my party last week."

"Luke was at your party?"

"You should have gone, seriously."

"Luke was at your party?" She repeats.

"Honestly, it wasn't my best party but it would've been much more entertaining if you were there."

"Jane!"

"What?" Jane responds finally.

"Was Luke at your party?"

"Yeah..."

Clementine blinks a few times, processing the information, but not able to make much of it other than a quiet _'oh'_ before proceeding to drink her milkshake.

"You should have gone," Jane says again, a smirk on her face. "You could have had your first drunk makeout session or something. Or drunk _anything,_ have you ever even been drunk before?"

The woman's crudeness made a grin rise on the other's face. "Jane, you know I have to practice."

"Clem, stop with the goody two shoe act. Live a little for god sake! You can't just let figure skating be your life." Her eyes follow hers, but Clementine avoids her gaze, looking anywhere else in the room but her. When she eventually gives up on fighting for her eye contact, she sighs, her face softening. "You're my friend, I want to see you happy and having fun for once, is that so much to ask?"

She doesn't know what to say to that. She opens her mouth and then shuts it again. The timidness she shows in moments like these is something she hates. It's a quiet, unassertive part of herself she isn't used to, and most certainly doesn't like.

Jane waits for a response, but gets none. "Smile...?" She requests. "Please?"

She complies.

Jane returns the smile. "That's better."

The waitress stops their conversation from continuing, placing their plates of food on the table and telling them that she hopes they enjoy the meal. Jane and Clementine both thank her before turning to eachother again.

"Can I tell you something? I think it'll make you feel better."

She nods. "Okay."

"Me and Luke hooked up at the party."

Jane doesn't touch her food, staring at Clementine and awaiting her reaction.

Clementine simply stares back at her blankly, but once the words hit her, her fork clangs against the plate loudly as her face drops. "What...?"

"We hooked up. Me and Luke." When Clementine takes too long to respond, she continues. "You know? Had sex?"

"I know what it means!" She replies harshly, dropping her fork completely now.

"Alright. Alright." Jane gives in with a scowl, picking up her fork and beginning to eat.

Clementine's shoulders rise slowly as she takes a long breath, trying to calm this feeling coursing through her veins.

Jane manages a smile. "Just listen, it's funny-"

 _No. I don't want to._

She grips onto the ends of the table, her heart screams at her to make her stop talking and leave the conversation as is. Her emotions are already going haywire with the simple fact alone. But she sees the tiny twitches in Jane's smile that show her annoyance, and the last thing she wanted was to upset her. She gets an overwhelming feeling of dread, she was being rude, irritating, how could Jane stand her if she kept acting like this? What if she made her go back to Atlanta? She was depending on her for the championship. There was nothing as priceless to a figure skater than training with an Olympic medal winner. She couldn't let it go to waste, no matter how she was feeling. Hopefully, she'd move on to another topic soon.

And she was her friend.

"-He asked me about you actually," Jane mumbles.

She perks up slightly. "...Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was kinda weird honestly. He asked me what my honest feelings on you were and we talked about you for awhile. Then after that he got _crazy_ drunk, he was just downing drink after drink." She paused for a moment to continue eating, Clementine glanced down at her red velvet pancakes, and took a tiny, uninterested bite. Her appetite had long vanished. "At one point, he just started singing his heart out, which would usually annoy me but he was pretty good. Did you know he was a good singer? Cause he is. Everyone in the party started singing along with him."

That brings an honest smile to her face, she'd heard him sing many times, but that was long ago. However, The nostalgic happiness fades quickly as she reminds herself what this retelling of events is leading up to. The awkward as hell 'hook up' between two of the people she idolized most in her life.

Luke and Jane, together, felt...odd to her.

"Wait-" Jane says, Clementine wasn't gonna speak, put Jane holds her arm out as if stopping her from doing so. "This is the best part, okay? So he's singing and spinning around and bumps some guy's vodka out of his hand. The guy is just as drunk as he is, so he's pissed, they get into a fist fight, me and Luke's friend...Shit, forgot his name but, this tall skinny guy, are over here trying to pull this huge guy off of him."

The younger woman bites her lip, she tries to ward off the feelings that could twist her attentive expression into something dreadful.

"Anyone can tell this guy needs to be driven home, so I ' _volunteer as tribute'_ or whatever and call a cab, cause why not? This guy pretty much made my party anyway, I honestly was about to go take a nap or something before he showed up."

She holds her breath.

"And...well, to make a long story short, we make out in the cab the whole trip and are practically sprinting into his house to get the deed done, feel bad for that fucking cab driver."

...

She manages a laugh, her face contorting as she bursts into a fake laughter that she hopes is convincing enough.

Jane smirks. "Thought you'd find that amusing."

How could she find _that_ amusing?

"Oh, Jane..." Her stomach hurts, it hurts so bad. "I will never let either of you forget this!" She jokes enthusiastically.

* * *

Her fist knocks against Luke's door gently before her closed palm draws away, and she questions her actions for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

Clementine knew he told her not to come, but she couldn't stand it anymore. She needed to see him, she _had_ to. As she stands on his doorstep, she looks over her shoulder at the barren street. There isn't any other cars around the property except Luke's, and certainly no moving trucks, she can't see a quick visit being that big of an issue for Nick and Stephanie's moving efforts, but she still can't shake off the feeling her presence could be a burden.

She knocks a second time, a little harder this time. Her other hand grips onto the styrofoam takeout container, filled with the red velvet pancakes left untouched at the diner.

Still no response.

 _He probably doesn't want to see you._

 _He doesn't have time to babysit you anymore._

The ill feeling she had gotten at the diner comes back to her, except the pain hits her much harder, and she moves to turn around and head back, regretting her decision to bother her older friend.

She hears the click of a door behind her before she can. "Huh? Clem?"

"Luke!" She exclaims, flipping back around to face the man in front of her. His taller form squints down at her, brows furrowed as he seems to try and process the situation. Clementine can do nothing but giggle nervously under his gaze. His almonds eyes appear glazed over, his facial hair thicker than she's used to seeing, and his hair and clothing generally wrinkled and unkempt. Luke had never seemed like a formal man, but he'd always been at the very least presentable, especially to her, but as he was now, it was clear he wasn't expecting her arrival.

She swallows tensely, faking confidence. "Hi, sorry to bother, I know you told me not to come but who would I be to _listen_ to you for once? I mean it's me...you know me...Hah."

She pushes the takeout container toward him, and he slowly looks down at it before taking it. For awhile, he just stands there, leaning against the doorway and staring at the styrofoam without a discernable expression.

"...Can I come in?" Clementine asks.

"Y-Yeah. Just gimme a second."

"Sure. Of course."

He shuts the door behind him, and she begins to play with one of the curls of her loose hair, staring at the wooden door and waiting for any sign of Luke's return. She hears what sounds like things being moved across a surface from within, and clanking glass from behind the door.

When he does return, she follows him inside and makes her way to the familiar old couch she'd seen many times before, plopping down on it as he walks past her.

"So, uh, how are you doing?" Clementine says in an attempt to be casual.

He calls out to her from the kitchen, his voice slow and a little harder to decipher for her, sounding more like muffled ramblings than an actual attempt at conversation. "I'm alright, sorry about...the thing...uh, you and Ken, hanging out with you guys. I-I really meant to go."

"I know, it's fine, really. I just wanted to talk to you about something, if that's okay?"

He poked out from around the corner, smiling. "Should I get the guitar?"

That isn't exactly what she meant, but she can't help but grin back at him, shrugging. "Why not? It's been awhile."

"Nice! I'll be right back."

He heads in the other direction, and the first thing she does once he's out of sight is stand up and begin pacing down the floor of his living room. What was wrong with her? Was she really gonna confront him about all this? She cracks her knuckles, keeping her eyes on the hallway he'd just walked through moments ago.

Her steps go a little too far, and the archway to the kitchen angles toward the kitchen counters that had originally been obscured from her view. But the counters aren't what catch her eyes, what does is the cans and bottles that cover them. There are dozens of labels she barely recognizes.

She hears footsteps coming from the hall, and once she realizes who they must belong to, she rushes out of the kitchen and jumps back onto the couch before he can notice she even moved.

He scratches his head. "I...can't find it..." He slurs. "Damn...where the hell did I...?"

"It doesn't matter." She tells him. He makes no reaction, she assumes he didn't hear her and repeats her words in a louder tone. "It's fine, Luke!"

Still nothing, he isn't even searching around the room, he's just looking straight ahead with half-lidded eyes. She resorts to standing up and walking up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his white t-shirt to get his attention. He turns to her, regarding her with the same lazy expression.

"Luke...are you okay?"

His eyes shoot open just like that, nodding. "Yeah, of course, all-all the time. I'm always...great."

Nothing that he's saying makes sense, and she stares at him with an arched brow. Her mind changes, and she grips his shoulder. "The guitar's not in here, I already looked, why don't you look back there again?"

"It's not there..."

She ignores him and practically drags him back into the main hall of his house. "Look!" She orders, and like a lost child being instructed by their teacher, he listens, going through one of the doors and closing it.

She rushes back into the living room and walks into the kitchen again. She takes the chance to investigate labels of the multiple types of cans and bottles in front of her.

Beer, whiskey, brandy, rum, tequila.

She'd never seen so many bottles in one place before, or more specifically _empty_ bottles.

She predicted it the moment he stopped being able to respond to her, for whatever reason. In any other situation, she might have laughed and teased him in his drunken state, but she can't even find it within herself to crack a smile at her realization.

Is he trying to hide it from her? Because if so, he isn't doing a very good job.

And in all honesty, she wishes she never saw it.

She picks up one of the whiskey bottles and reads the black and white label, Jack Daniels. She saw him with it all the time, yet he had always been able to stay composed around her. He never used to go overboard on things like this. He'd never really been _intoxicated_ like this.

She would've been able to tell he was drunk when she was younger.

Or would she have? She can't be sure. Kenny and Katjaa wouldn't let some drunk guy babysit her, Ken and Sarah. Yeah, this has to be recent.

"Clem?"

Her head whips around to meet the man in question, standing under the archway from behind her. He's caught her, she can't run away now. Instead, she turns away from his gaze again, staring at the bottle in her hands.

"What are you doing?" He asks again, the slurring still present in his voice, but less so than before. It seems the seriousness of the situation has made him click back into reality. _Oh, god forbid Lil' ol' Clemmy Clem be touching his liquors!_

"Don't touch...Don't touch that."

"Why not?" She challenges, but speaks again before he can reply. "So this is why you didn't want me here, huh? So you could get piss drunk?"

He pauses. "Nick and Stephanie-"

"Bullshit. Nick and Stephanie aren't even _here._ They already moved out, last week. Did you really think I wouldn't realize?"

Her venomous words come out all too quickly, she doesn't have the courage to face him, she can only guess how his face looks right now.

"I'm sorry."

"If you didn't want to see me then you should have just said so. Okay? I get it."

"That's not it at all, Clem."

"Then what the hell is it!?"

"It's..." His words get stuck in his throat. "It's complicated, okay?"

She watches her warped reflection in the whiskey bottle, the tense lines in her face and the growing redness in her eyes.

With that, she flings the bottle in her hands to the kitchen floor.

Nothing else can be said between the two of them before a loud and sharp crash resounds through the room, hopefully halting whatever words could have been coming to Luke's lips or whatever thoughts were circulating through his head.

Clementine head slowly drops down to stare at the shattered pieces of glass below her. Even she is stunned into silence by her own actions. Breaking the bottle in her frustration had crossed her mind, but didn't think she'd need to, she expected him to tell her the truth.

"What...the hell?" Luke says under his breath. "What is wrong with you!?"

"You...You..." She finally turns to him, and screams at the top of her lungs. "You're a disgusting horny bastard! I hate you!"

He looks at her in a way that says he can't believe what he's hearing, and she can't blame him. "What the hell, Clem!?"

"Of all the people you could choose to put your dick inside, It just has to be Jane, huh!?"

His face drops as the woman's name leave her mouth, and he stumbles over his words trying to find some kind of defense. "I...What? So what? Why does that matter!?"

"Why does it matter? Why does it matter!?" Honestly, she doesn't have an answer to that. She doesn't even have an answer for herself, let alone him. "Jane's _my_ friend, okay!? I get that _you_ don't have time for me anymore, but Jane _does_ and you can't take that away from me too."

"I'm not trying to-"

"And not only that-" She goes on. "You missed going out with me and Ken, something we've been planning for the last month by the way, so that you could sleep with some random woman! That's disgusting! Y-You're disgusting. And you didn't text me for weeks! Do you know how worried I was!?"

She wants to complain more, but she can't think of anything to vent about, and as she searches for more to say in her mind, she sees Luke's face twist.

"Really? _That's_ what this is about?" He says. "Just because I didn't text you for what? Two weeks? You didn't talk to me at all for _two years,_ two fucking years! And after all that, you thought you could just come back into my life and act like my best friend or something? I'm sorry, but that isn't how it works. Grow up, Clem."

She doesn't have a response. She scoffs to fill the silence, crossing her arms and looking away. "You're such an idiot."

"You know what? I give up. You wanna have a fight so bad? Then fine. Fuck you. The world doesn't revolve around you, get over it."

She takes another bottle, a vodka bottle this time, and throws it to the ground just as she had the whiskey bottle, not even flinching when the loud sound of glass shattering reaches her ears. It isn't long before she reaches for another one.

Her fingertips barely graze the bottle before Luke's hand grips hard onto her wrist, hard enough it hurts. "Stop it!" He commands her.

the rapid beating of her heart that pulses the wrath boiling in her blood ever slows, her body relaxing tepidly. When he was standing by the archway, a few feet away from her, she felt safe in a way, the distance felt like a shield. But now, his chest was right against her back, his arm reaching over her shoulder and grasping her wrist, she was powerless to do anything at this point. If he wanted to, he could strangle her until she took her last breath. She wouldn't even try to stop him.

She stops in her tracks and willingly withdraws her hand from the collection of glass bottles.

Luke lets go of her with her surrender, his presence still close and wary of her next actions.

 _I'm sorry._

Her knees sink down to the floor, just barely touching the pieces of glass on the floor. her head hangs low in defeat, and she can't seem to find it within herself to speak.

"Just get outta here."

She lets out a whimper that he hopes he can't hear, and doesn't move for a few seconds, hoping he'll reconsider.

"Are you listening to me? Get out of my house."

She does.

* * *

So the day goes on, but the feeling never leaves her, a feeling she can't even begin to describe.

"Hey, Clem!" Omid cheerfully greets her, and she walks briskly by without a word. Her perfectly fit figure skates somehow feel tighter on her feet than they should, the collar of her slick athletic jacket feels like it's wrapping around her neck, but every time she goes to readjust it, she finds it in the same place as before, nowhere close to her neck.

The rink has always been cold, it's _ice_ after all, but she had grown used to that gentle chill, it was welcoming to her. On this day in particular though, it's freezing. She's left to shiver and hug her sides as she prepares herself to get on the rink. The blades of her skates dig into the ice in a way she isn't used to, and as she goes through her routine that she remembers off by heart, trying to commit her entire body and soul to the act, but she can't shake the feeling that something _isn't right._

A feeling she had thought herself lucky enough to have forgotten.

She wants it to go away, she'll do absolutely anything for it to go away.

She's reaching an early part of her routine when her loop jump is about to come in. The loop is a simple jump, the first jump she ever learned, a beginner jump that she had taught dozens of younger students. It's a jump she could do with her eyes closed, it's a jump she could do in her sleep.

But on _this day in particular,_ she can't.

Her leg gives in before she can even get her skates off the ice. It's such a joke, if Jane were there, she'd be laughing at her. Her knee hits the ice and she feels a sharp pain shoot through her thigh, but she only lets out a light groan before she can't even notice the pain anymore.

All she can notice is that feeling.

"Maybe you should go home and take a break, Clem? You might be overworking yourself." Omid says to her as she glides off the rink and back into the bleachers.

She listens for once and drives home, silent and blank-faced.

"You're home early." Kenny points out as she walks through the front door, but he's given no answer.

Her shoes fly off her feet as she kicks them off and bolts up the stairs.

She reaches the last step before she sees Ken just exiting his room and slithering into the hall, but his eyes grow from the shock of seeing her there. "Clem? Aren't you supposed to be-"

She brushes past him and slams the door in his face.

The family is forced to hear her loud sobbing for the rest of the night.

* * *

It's a week after that he goes to the bar with Vince and Russell as his companions.

The past couple of days haven't been the best for him. He's still having a lot of trouble adjusting to living alone, and ever since his fight with Clementine, most of his days are spent fairly isolated from everything else. Alcohol was his only friend some nights, and other nights he simply slept until he physically couldn't rest no more. It's become so bad it's been interfering with his work, his boss called him out multiple times for not paying attention during work, or taking breaks that seemed to last forever. He doesn't explain the situation to Vince or Russell directly, but they are able to see that something's going on with him and offer to take him out that night to get his mind off whatever's bothering him.

God knows he's infuriated with Clementine. The things she said to him and did were terribly uncalled for, and he finds them completely unreasonable. For days after, he would find himself stepping into tiny shards of glass he missed the first time he cleaned her mess, and they made him all the more bitter. He finds it easy to forgive people in most cases, but he still isn't ready to look past this. He wants an apology from her first, at the very least, but based on the fact she has yet to make any attempt to contact him, she isn't going to be apologizing to him any time soon.

He looks down at his cup of whiskey with guilt, barely making a dent in it through the first hour or two of the night. Vince is quick to leave, already finding a woman he's interested in. Although Russell comments on a few of the woman there, he doesn't seem comfortable enough or even at all interested in trying to approach them, but Luke does catch him sneaking glances at the guys around. Luke decides not to point it out.

For the most part, he sits on his phone, looking at random things that catch his attention and speaking to Russell periodically. Halfway through the night, he gets a call that he intends on ignoring, but once he sees the caller is Clementine, he hesitates.

He wants to decline, he doesn't feel ready to speak to her, still sensitive about recent events. However, he swallows his pride once he realizes he'll regret it if he doesn't accept the call.

He leaves the booth without saying a word to Russell, rushing out of the bar so the music won't interrupt their conversation.

"Clementine?" He says into the phone once he's outside the bar. "Are you okay?"

 _"Don't say anything, just listen."_

The way she speaks feels like he's being clawed at in an odd way, and the grip on his phone tightens. "Okay..."

 _"I don't want you coming to the Championship."_

He takes a sharp breath, shaken by the news as well as the blunt and cold delivery.

She continues. _"I know I invited you, and I already transferred the flight money to your visa, but don't come. You don't have to pay me back, I don't care what you do with it, just as long as you don't buy the plane ticket with it."_

"I-"

 _"Listen to me. I don't want you at the Championship, I swear on my life I will freak out if I see you there. Don't ruin this for me. If you still care about me, even a little, you won't go to the Championship and you will never talk to me again. Do you understand?"_

He hears the rush of blood in his ears as his heart beats rapidly, quickening with each word that comes from her mouth. Unsure what to do, he opens and closes his mouth and tries to find something to say that will convince her not to take such drastic measures. He doesn't know what he did wrong, at least wrong enough to deserve such a consequence; but whatever it is, he'll take it back if it means he'll have his friend back.

"Clem, what's going-"

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

His phone nearly dropped from his hand.

* * *

 _"To all passengers traveling to Tokyo on flight FR3422, please have your boarding passes and passports ready for boarding. Flight FR3422 now boarding at gate 40."_

His feet anxious tap on the group below him as he leans against the bulky and uncomfortable airport seat. His flight was an hour away, he had his suitcase and carry on, passport and other necessary I.D, all he had to do is wait.

However, waiting is harder than he thought, because whenever he sees someone even remotely resembling Clementine, he sinks in his seat subconsciously, hoping he won't be met with sharp golden irises glaring at him. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd fear a girl thirteen years younger than himself, let alone Clementine of all people.

It's because he was told not to be here, he isn't supposed to be here, but he is. Call him stubborn, but he couldn't let it go, not like this.

He considered obeying her wish at first, her icy tone of voice mixed with her attacking words made him well aware that she was serious and not playing games with him. He thought that if it was what she truly wanted, he'd leave her alone. Only days later did he decide he wasn't going to let that happen.

He makes a point of using his own money to pay for the plane ticket and hotel, rather than the money she gave him originally. He plans to return to the money to her once things were reconciled.

He hopes to have the chance to remind Clementine how much he values their friendship. They've known eachother for years, to think that could end just like that...that she _wants_ it to end just like that...he wasn't okay with that.

He was determined to make things right.

The plane ride is ten hours. Ten hours of being crushed between two people he didn't know, nor wanted to. He'd been unlucky enough to get a middle seat. He assumes the flight was in high demand due to how cheap it was compared to other flights.

The second he steps onto the flight, he understands why it was listed at such a cheap price. There are no televisions, the only source of entertainment for him is the magazines stuffed in the pockets at the back of the seats. Flight attendants come by with a choice of sandwiches and subs to eat, and give him tiny plastic cups of water as a beverage, looking just about as drained as he was.

The seats are as tiny as they can get, and it looks like it's been years since the seats were cleaned through. His seat, in particular, has a large chunk of fabric pulled out of it. It leaves a massive hole at the rim of the seat, and in his boredom, he finds himself playing with the loose threads. He feels his hipbone ache from having to sit in such an uncomfortable spot for so long, he finds himself leaving his seating area to stand and stretch his legs often, enough to tell that the two strangers he's sitting in between are getting bothered by him.

The flight Clementine had booked for them was likely in much better quality. She must have quite a bit of cash. He didn't know how much figure skaters made, but judging by the fact she was adamant about paying for both his and Jane's tickets and hotel rooms, it must be a lot. He still has a great deal of money on his bank account that she lent him back when they were on better terms. He doesn't use it. It feels wrong. He feels more comfortable using the money from his own pocket. This flight was the best he was gonna get, unless he planned on living on the streets during this week in Italy.

He has trouble communicating with anyone in Italy. Getting into the motel he rented a room from, the receptionist has to have him wait and call someone else who speaks a bit of broken English to talk to him.

It's even worse when two days after arriving comes the day of the Championship competition. It takes place in an establishment known as the _Mediolanum Forum,_ a huge arena filled with thousands of people from around the world. Amongst the voices, his senses are overwhelmed by separate languages. The majority he recognizes as Italian, but he also hears what he thinks might be Spanish and French, the rest of the voices he can't identify.

Just by the entrance, he hears the first voice that he can completely understand, speaking English and trying to sell a collection of tickets outside the door. He wouldn't be shocked if they were a scammer, like in most events like these, trying to resell tickets for a higher price.

However, it's the only person he's come across so far who he'll be able to communicate with, and if he didn't get directions soon, he was going to miss the entire show.

"'Scuse me."

"Hey there, buddy! Nice to see ya. Interested in a ticket or two? Only one hundred each!"

He waves his hand dismissively. "I'm just wonderin' bout directions."

The scruffy looking male frowns. With a sigh, he does give him an answer. "What kinda directions we talkin' bout here? Lemme see your ticket."

A tiny part of Luke thinks he'll run away with it if he handed over the ticket, but he ignores the thought and hands it over anyway. In his gruff voice, he introduces himself as Nate before examining the thin paper. He explains it to him simply enough.

Level 002 means he sat on the second floor, which meant he'll have to go up a flight of stairs near the entrance. Section 225 was apparently toward the left, each section was clearly labeled, same with the rows and seats.

As he processes the short explanation, repeating the directions in his head so he'll remember it, Nate speaks. "So who are you here for?"

"Hm?"

"Come on, man. Today's the ladies free skate, who are ya hoping to see?"

He wonders whether or not he should answer, but the question is harmless enough. "Clementine Hutchinson?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer.

"Hutchinson, huh?" He chuckles. "She's cute. Not really my type, but I can see why you'd like her."

Luke crosses his arms defensively, uncomfortable with the implications he's trying to make. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Calm it, buddy. Not trying to diss your girl."

"It's not like that." He says. "I'm here cause I...like figure skatin'. Ya know, the technical stuff."

"Pft. Okay. Fine. I'm sure Hutchinson has _great_ technique, knows how to use those legs. Now if you'd like a closer look at her _technique,_ I have first floor tickets. Only fifty dollars this time, since you're my friend."

Friends? Luke disagrees, swiping his ticket back from the man and walking off before he can hear any more of his nonsense.

For once, he's early getting into the audience area, but hundreds of people still fill the second floor of seating. He doesn't have to search too long until he finds his designated spot, sitting down and turning on his phone to check the time.

According to the website, Clementine is the third skater to perform, which meant he wouldn't have wait too long to see her. He did his fair bit of research before coming to Italy, and found several live official English podcasts that would be reporting on the event. He decided it would be best to listen to one of them as things went on, to gain the tiniest bit of understanding of what was going on rather than just blindly trusting himself to be able to tell what is done right and what is done wrong.

When the competition is close to beginning, he turns on the first podcast he gets a notification for. It's pretty uninteresting for the first half, the men simply joke with each other and countdown to when things are supposed to begin. After awhile, they do finally get to speaking about the competitors, mentioning one other American figure skater and a Russian figure skater before moving on to Clementine.

 _"I think Clementine Hutchinson is gonna be a big contender this year."_

 _"I don't think so. She's a newcomer here, a lot of the other competitors have been going to Championships for the last several years. I think she might just crack under the pressure."_ Responds the deeper pitched of the two.

 _"I'm not so sure, she's the apprentice to Jane Lakin."_ The other man says. _"But that might be an even bigger problem for her; Jane gave up participating in the Championships this year to train Clementine, she has to prove herself here. Not just for the judges, but for Jane Lakin as well."_

 _"Do you think she's ready for that, John? She's talented, but she's so young. Only nineteen, I think her taking this home for America is a bit of a reach."_

 _"You know I like to root for the underdogs, Kevin."_

He continues to listen to the podcast as figure skaters he wouldn't recognize begin to perform. According to the comments of the two men, it appears they've done extremely well, technique scores going through the roof and both starting with an early lead. He can't even imagine how nervous Clementine must be after having to follow two stellar performances from a few figure skating veterans.

He really does believe Clementine can do well here, he needs to believe that. He may not know a hell of a lot about figure skating, but her last performance couldn't have just been a fluke or a misjudgment by him. There was something there and he knows it. Clementine is special.

He doesn't care if she hates him, or never wants to speak to him again, he'll root for her no matter what.

* * *

"Don't look," Jane whispers to her.

Her ears ring amongst the commotion. She can barely hear the words being spoken to her.

As the two women take strides down the hallway, they pass the last figure skater who had gone up before her, a Russian figure skater she never learned the name of. Jane had instructed her not to research or watch anyone she may face in the competition. With her companion's words, her head turns sharply to the side until the other skater is out of view and with that out of mind.

"Remember what I said, it's just you, only you. Nothing else matters."

She doesn't feel well.

Together, the two enter the arena. The ringing in her ears is even stronger now, an overdramatic part of her wonders if she's gone deaf, but she doesn't have time to focus too much on the idea.

Jane's mouth moves but she can't hear the words coming out, and watches as the other woman's palm comes up to remove the sunglasses she's wearing.

The white lights nearly blind her in their brightness, and she lets out a wince of pain that vibrates through her teeth.

Jane's voice is muffled when she speaks again. "I'm sorry, you can't wear them."

She can't see anything, not even the people above that were going to be watching her skating in a few minutes. Usually, she'd be thankful for that, but in these circumstances, all she wants to do is cry.

It hurts. It all hurts.

It hurts so bad.

This isn't right.

"Are you sure about this, Clem?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine!"

Jane lets out a defeated sigh, folding her arms and looking towards the rink and what must be the audience. "Look, I know this means a lot to you, but you know what the doctor said. You're injured. You can't just...heal on your own free will."

"It's been enough time." She retorts stubbornly.

"It hasn't even been a week, Clem. Don't be stupid."

The conversation is interrupted by a man who tells the two of them that Clementine was expected to be on in thirty seconds.

Clementine stands up from her bench promptly and positions herself right by the entrance to the rink. The aching in her body makes itself known. She ignores it, along with the ringing in her ears and stinging in her eyes.

Jane begins to approach her as if about to speak, but Clementine quickly shuts her down. "Don't talk to me right now, you're distracting me."

After a pause, the other woman grumbles something under her breath before Clementine hears her announcement through the speaker, and skates onto the rink.

* * *

...

How could this happen?

Luke trips over himself as he makes his way down the flight of stairs, hitting his knee against the ground below as he loses his footing, hard enough that he expects a bruise to form later. After a moment he gets up again and makes his way down the other set of stairs, more carefully this time, reaching the bottom floor.

He feels sick.

His heart beats against his ribcage to the point it's suffocating, and the spring air hits him as he shoves his way through the doors and into the outside.

The ambulance flashes it's bright lights, reflecting off the things surrounding it, and watches the backdoors shut before he rushes to the first face he can recognize.

"Where's she goin'!?"

"Luke!?" Jane exclaims with furrowed brows.

"Where!?" He repeats amongst the panic.

"The hospital!"

"Which one?"

"San...San Raffaele."

With that he's off, and so is the ambulance. He rushes to the nearest road and calls over a taxi cab

The way she screeched on the rink, it was something he will never forget.

It just _happened._ He can't even begin to describe how or why. Moments before he was watching her skate without a thought, her body moving around gracefully. His attention had been drawn away for just a second, his phone vibrated when he got a phone call. The number wasn't saved on his phone, but he knew the series of numbers by heart.

His father was calling him. He had no idea why. He didn't wanna know why. He declined the call immediately.

And just as he looked up to the rink, he saw her body laying on the ice, shaking and shivering and screaming. Just screaming. So loud he couldn't hear anything else. Nothing moved after that. Everyone, including himself, had no idea how to react, what to say or what to do. After what felt like forever of nothing but _screaming,_ a medical team came and carried her off the ice.

The show went on to the next figure skater as if it hadn't even happened. Luke followed the ambulance Clementine was in over to San Raffaele Hospital.

Sitting with Jane as they wait patiently outside Clementine's hospital room is beyond awkward, for obvious reasons. Luke isn't the type of person to want to reunite with a one night stand, but considering the circumstances, it could be worse. For the most part, they don't utter a word to each other. That's fine, they didn't really know each other much. Drunk sex aside.

He barely remembers the most of it, but he does remember wanting it and at the very least enjoying what was there. It was a bad day for him, a really bad day. He was a week away from losing his best friend, and feeling as lonely and isolated from the world as ever. It'd been so long since he'd had such a feeling, he didn't know how to deal with it. So she offered, and he took it. That's how he dealt with it.

Ain't nothing wrong with that, right?

"You have to have done something really shitty. I tried really hard to get some details out of her, but she wouldn't give me the slightest hint of what the hell you did." Jane says at one point. "But I do know that she told you not to come here."

"I know."

"But you did."

"I know."

And that's that, they don't say any more on the subject.

The doctor tells them she has a femur shaft fracture, and begins to describe the severity of it. The femur is the thighbone, it's the main bone the upper body leans on when it walks and stands. Since it's the strongest bone in the body, and so hard to fracture, it makes the situation Clementine's in very serious. They are told that in order to heal her, she was going to need to go through a surgery to put a metal rod through the femur that will keep it connected.

The doctor went on to ask Luke and Jane to leave for the night, Clementine was still unconscious after being put under for her surgery, but would likely awake so she could be visited by the next day.

Once outside the hospital, he makes to turn away before Jane's voice halts him.

"Where are you going?"

"If I'm gonna be honest, I'm stayin' in one of those motels."

He gets little reaction, but her dark eyes shift around. "Would you maybe...want to come back to my hotel with me?"

It's an offer.

But this time, he's not gonna take it.

"Jane, I-I can't."

A short pause. "Oh..."

"She was really mad when she found out about...us...you know." He admits.

"She?"

"...Clem."

"Clem?" She folds her arms, standing confidently. "She wasn't mad, what are you getting at here? She was having a laugh fest about it with me."

"Well, she spent the evenin' yellin' at me about it. Said I was disgustin' for hooking up with someone I barely knew. All kinds of shit."

Jane's eyes shift again, her expression changing as she processes the words she's being told. After a few moments, a pout rests on her face. "So what?"

"I mean, it just seems kind of disrespectful, considerin' everything going on..."

"So you let a nineteen-year-old decide your sex life?" She scoffs.

When Luke doesn't have an answer, he watches her sour expression soften into something more downtrodden. She walks to him, just until her face is inches away from his and grasps onto his hand, letting her fingers tangle between his.

"Luke, please." She mumbles in a low voice. "I _need_ this, and so do you."

He knows what she's talking about is more than just the simple pleasures of sexual intimacy. What she seeks is solace, just as he did the first night they were together. It's an offer that he would find himself accepting in most situations, but not now.

Not when it's about Clementine.

He releases his hand from hers, taking a couple steps away to further the distance between the two and looking up at her. "I'm sorry." He says, before he spins on his heel and leaves.

* * *

The next day, they see eachother back at the hospital and act like it never happened.

They both stand outside her hospital room, inches away from the door but not ready enough to turn the handle and enter. For such a brightly lit building, everything feels so dark.

The news the doctor gives them makes a feeling of despair and dread, like thorns digging into his spine, sprout in his heart. It was always a possibility in his mind, ever since she was admitted to the hospital, but his mind refused to believe something like that would happen. That's too unlucky, too unfair, and at the Championship no less.

 _"I'm sorry to say this. But a femur injury has many long-term effects. I don't think she'll ever be able to figure skate again."_

But it's happening.

It's happening and it's happening now.

And they have to reveal the news to Clementine. The doctor doesn't understand how much this means to her, how much this might just break her. They do. That's why they tell him they'll be the ones to relay the news to her.

"This is gonna be really hard, isn't it?"

Damn right.

"I know you ain't gonna like this but-"

"I know what you're gonna say." She interrupts. "I should do it. I'm the figure skater after all. I get it."

"Don't mean to leave it all on you or anythin', I just...think you'd be the best person to hear it from."

"You're still coming in with me."

Luke wants to see her, every fiber of his body fights against his resolve to stay out of it. The idea of Clementine finding out her dreams have been crushed all in just a few days was far too much for him to have to witness. Maybe he was running away again, that's fine, he can handle that.

"It'd just upset her more." He claims.

"Finding out you pussied out of this is what's gonna upset her. She wants to see you, Luke. She'll have a hard time admitting it, but having you there will make it much easier for her."

He lets out a breath, letting his head rest in his palm. "Fine. Fine." He says. "But if she doesn't want me there, I ain't over stayin' my welcome."

The room is dimmer in contrast to the bright surroundings of the main hospital halls, the daylight streaks through a white blanket, making the area glow with the soft fulvous of the morning. There's a silence that makes every tiny movement he makes feel loud as ever, and he can't decide whether it's a relaxed silence or an eery one. It's almost peaceful, but it does little to help his nerves as he steps into the room.

When his eyes catch the dark hair on the back of Clementine's head, the strands wilder and more out of place than usual, staring out the curtained window, a tiny part of him wants to turn back around. He fights against the feeling, taking a deep breath and feeling his hand unconsciously begin to run through his bangs.

The clicking of Jane's short heels is what gets the younger woman's attention, her hair following her as she turns quickly to the sound.

On a length of the bed is her leg, covered in a huge cast that seems to weigh her down where she lays. Even though her leg, or more specifically femur, is the only thing said to be in a state of crisis, he notices other things about her features that signal more. The fresh skin of her youth appears dried and cracked, almost having a grey tint to it, and her eyes move slowly and can barely remain open. He assumes it to be an effect to the stress she was under and a lack of sleep.

Luke holds his breath, expecting the creasing of brows and narrowing of eyes as her look settles upon his figure.

"Luke...?" Her voice is hollow as she says it.

He finds himself unable to speak, but he feels a warm feeling run through his chest as she manages a small smile in his direction.

"I can't believe you're here. I missed you." She says

His protectiveness kicks in as he closes the distance between her bed and himself, and stands next to the bed with her small hand held tightly in his. "I'm sorry I took so long. How ya feelin'?"

She chuckles weakly. "Tired."

Jane hasn't moved from her initial spot since she entered the room, and Clementine takes a short moment to look around Luke and meet her gaze.

"Hey, Clem," Jane says, following Luke's trail.

"Jane, I should apologize."

"No!" Jane nearly shouts. "No-No...It's fine, you don't need to apologize."

"I treated you terribly. Luke too." She hangs her head, grasping harder onto Luke's supportive hand. "You both mean a lot to me, I don't know why I'd act so bitchy. I'm really sorry. Thank you for being here."

Jane stares at her with sympathetic eyes and doesn't say any more.

Luke speaks again, wanting to cut to the chase before the older woman loses her chance. "We actually...have something to tell you."

She makes a sound of retaliation that says she isn't fond of the idea of following his plan, but Clementine replies too quickly for the subject to be dropped.

"What is it? Are you okay? Are you guys...?"

"It's about figure skating."

She lets out a playful sigh and brushes him off. "I know, I know, I'm gonna have to sit out for awhile. Don't worry, I'll actually wait this one out. And I know I might have to miss Championships next year too, but that's not that bad I guess, I'll get over it."

"Th-That's-" Jane begins. "That's not it."

Clementine looks right up at her, a curious and maybe slightly anxious expression on her face.

"I can't..." Jane says suddenly, her voice shaking with guilt as she gathers her purse. "I'm sorry, I can't, I just can't." The click of her heels gets louder and she rushes out of the room, practically flinging the door open as she leaves.

"Jane." He calls in a harsh whisper, leaving Clementine's side and rushing to the door. His voice grows into a yell when he repeats the name. " _Jane!_ "

He stops in his tracks.

She's gone. It was too much for her to handle, he can't blame her for wanting to avoid confronting the issue, but there's a pit in his stomach when he realizes her cowardice means that this responsibility was left to him now.

 _"Fuck."_ He says under his breath, his fists clenching.

Fear sinks into the woman's voice. "What's wrong?" She questions. "Luke? What's going on?"

His back faces her, and wonders whether or not he should keep the distance or return to her side. If he stays farther away and doesn't see her face, he'd have an easier time revealing the news to her, but he also knows that being close and by her side is likely what's best for her.

For Clementine's sake, he spins on his heel and slowly draws toward her again. Her eyes are big and faded as she watches him lean down toward her, and he swallows the weight stuck in his throat.

Oh god.

How the hell was he going to do this?

"Listen, Clem..." His voice is barely a whisper, if he weren't so close there was no chance she'd hear him. "What I'm 'bout to tell you is...gonna upset you...I just want you to be prepared for that."

It's hard, but he's sure to look her straight in the eye as he speaks. Her face drops, her pupils growing small with her growing anxiety, and Luke has to take several deep breaths before he can speak again.

...

After a deep inhale, he finally tells her.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

And she screams.


	6. VI

A/N: Hello! Quick update here. So where to begin, there's going to be trigger warnings for this chapter below, please check them out if it is necessary to you. If you haven't noticed, this fanfiction already has a few cases of triggering content, but I find it specifically important to list these. I've actually added Trigger Warnings to all my chapters now. I still am keeping the rating at T, as I still feel that is the appropriate rating for it. All that has been shown in this series so far is something I've seen in countless teen shows before. I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

Small change, I seem to get a lot of long reviews, which is great! But I've found lately that I prefer responding to those reviews through PM rather than adding them as a response, only anons and short reviews will be responded to in chapters from now on. Long reviews will be responded to directly.

 **Guest:** Yeah, I can get addicted to cliffhangers sometimes, sorry to torture you lol, but don't worry, I'm toning down to cliffhangers a bit in the next few chapters!

* * *

 **Trigger Warnings:** Unconventional Self Harm, Implied Domestic Abuse (Psychological).

* * *

 **Playlist:**

1\. Never Be Like You by Crywolf (cover)

2\. Darkroom by Ten Sleep

3\. Comes and Goes by Greg Laswell

4\. The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future by Los Campesinos!

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 6

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

She can't feel anything.

When the words had first left Luke's lips, it felt like she would never stop crying. All the man could do was rub her back as she sat slouched over, sobbing into her hands. Waves of tears continuously soaked her cheeks, soon it was no use trying to wipe them away, they just kept falling and falling until streaks of tears were glued to her face.

But after what felt like years, she stopped, she cried so much it seemed her body could no longer function the tears to correlate with her own emotions. Luke might have said something to her, she can't remember, but it must not have mattered to her, because she closed her eyes and turned her head to the side without a word.

From then on she slept. Even though the bed was bulky and uncomfortable. Even though the huge bright blue cast that covered her right leg made her limited to one position. Even though Luke tried to speak to her. She just slept. The only time she wasn't asleep was when the doctor needed to discuss important things with her, like her physical therapy once she was healed, and the drugs she'd need to start taking. Something like that, it was all one big blur to her.

Sometimes, when she woke up, she'd forget about the circumstance she had gotten herself in, and attempt to get out of the bed in a haze. But once the fluorescent hospital lights adjusted into her sights, along with the blinding white walls and Luke, sitting in a chair by her bedside, it would hit her all over again.

Except those times, she wouldn't cry. Instead, her teeth would grit unpleasantly as a feeling of pure self-hatred leaked through her veins and into her heart. When she noticed Luke finally asleep in his chair, she'd dig her fingers into her hair and pull until tiny strands of hair were caught between her fingers. She would endlessly scratch at her forearms until her own blood and flesh were under her nails. She'd bite into the inside of her mouth until she tasted the saltiness of blood on her tongue. There were so many terrible things she thought about doing to herself, but her state restricted her to those few forms of self-punishment.

Even out of the hospital, she was told she'd need to be in a wheelchair for at least six months. Luke was her guardian in these times, he sorted out matters to get them both flights back to Georgia, he went back to her hotel and packed her things for her, and pushed her wheelchair wherever she needed to go for those last few days.

She wondered if it irritated him, having to take care of her as if she were a small child, having to stay within Italy even though he likely wished to be home again. She didn't speak to him, at all. It probably bored him out of his mind. She came to the conclusion that he pitied her too much to leave her behind, and if Jane hadn't gotten the jump before him, he would've booked it back to Georgia long ago.

When she got home, and Luke was rolling her through the crowded airport, she saw Kenny, Katjaa, and Ken waiting for her. From the distance, she could see their expressions fall as reality befell them, but as she and Luke drew closer, she saw Kenny bite at his lip while trying to keep a neutral expression, and Ken with his mouth tightly shut, barely able to control himself.

Katjaa bent down to be at her level, lips pulled into a smile. "Clementine, sweetie, we're so glad to see you. We've been so worried."

She said nothing, her eyes were hollow as they seemed to stare right through the woman in front of her.

"Clementine?" She said again, trying to meet her eyes but finding nothing. She directed her attention to the man behind her, looking for an explanation. "What's wrong?"

Luke stumbled over his words. "I-I dunno, she's...been silent since..."

Katjaa's smile faltered, but nevertheless remained with a forced smile on her face.

Kenny came to stand by his wife's side, and Clementine looked up at him as he put a hand on her shoulder. His voice shook as he spoke, unable to hide the frown on his face. "D-Don't worry, Clem, you're home now, everything's alright."

She wishes she could have believed him.

As she is now, she doesn't cry anymore, she isn't haunted by self-hatred, at least not enough to want to slam her head against a wall until she passes out.

But she certainly isn't happy.

She's nothing. She's numb. That's the only way she can describe it.

Her wheelchair creaks and stumbles as Ken rolls her down a gravelly road. When she came home, Ken was determined to give her some entertainment in her stuck condition, such as sightseeing and taking walks to the park.

She'd started talking to people again, but all she said was short and lacking much emotion, it almost felt the same as if she'd kept silent.

The wind blows through her hair as she and Ken pass through a pathway surrounded by trees and flying birds, their high pitched chirps reaching her ears. He gives her a bag of bird food that she grabs handfuls of and tosses onto the ground haphazardly. She hears the flapping of wings as a couple of robins follow the trail of bird seeds and eventually come to peck at the ground in front of her.

Without saying anything, Ken puts a small handful of seeds onto the blanket over her lap. She doesn't do much in reaction, staying in the same sitting position with her hands clasped lazily. After a couple of moments, the birds take notice of the seeds and fly onto her lap, going about their business feeding themselves. She's so frozen in her spot that they aren't frightened by her, or even able to tell she's a living, breathing thing.

Before she can take in the experience, she waves them off of her until they fly away, lifting the blanket and letting the seeds fall back onto the ground. However, they don't return, threatened by her reaction and fearful of her presence now.

Ken blinks from beside her. "Sorry. I thought you'd...like it. I didn't mean to upset you..."

She doesn't respond. Instead, she lets her thoughts wander back to the deepest parts of her psyche until an obscure idea enters her mind.

Maybe she had died long ago, in that car alongside her parents.

She had been persistent on attending the Championship despite the fact she was recovering from a recent concussion. Jane had instructed her to drop out of competing this year for that reason, only to be ignored. The concussion very well could have been the main reason she fell and ended her own career in the first place.

And Luke...

She lets out an audible sigh.

Luke is probably at his limit with her. It's only a matter of time. She didn't want this. She did everything she could to prevent it.

She made so many attempts to peacefully write him out of her life while her pleasant perception of him still remained. She didn't want to attach herself to him just so that friendship could fall apart too. She told herself that the memories would be enough. She held onto the idea that at least he was something she couldn't ruin for herself. She shouldn't have invited him to that stupid show, she shouldn't have remembered that stupid promise she made, and she shouldn't have made that stupid promise in the first place.

All relationships, of any shape or form, go sour eventually. She's always known that. Whether it be by death, a disconnect, or growing displeasure with one another, every relationship is proven to fall apart somehow. It was the pessimistic outlook on life she'd grown up to accept as reality. At least her reality.

Because it's happened to _everyone,_ and she means _everyone_ she has ever known.

...

Maybe all these people; Lee, Kenny, Katjaa, Ken, Jane and Luke, maybe they were all figments of her destructive imagination, haunting her as she floats through purgatory.

A dreadful fate she was given to pay for what a selfish, spoiled child she was.

Or something like that, karma's a bitch.

Because ever since they died, everything has been so _wrong._

"Hey, Clem," Ken says then, throwing her out of her thoughts and back into reality.

"What?"

"So...I've been talking to Sarah..." He begins as he continues to roll her wheelchair through the park. "...And, since it's June and she's on Summer Break, she was talking about maybe coming to visit you in the next week or two."

With his words, she can already feel her nails digging into her palm. Clementine can only think of one thing to say. "Tell her to stay." She says. "She has better ways to spend her time, I bet."

* * *

" _Ma?" Luke calls from the bathroom across the hall, the door wide open._

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Do freckles go away?"_

 _His mother's small hand is about the turn the page of the thick novel she's reading, the yellow stained page hooked between her thumb and index finger, but the action stops midway. The soft_ colours _of nature in her hazel eyes are filled with an inquiry as she looks up from her book. "Freckles? Why would you wanna know something like that?"_

 _Luke pouts at his mother's meddling, staring back at himself in the mirror, but focusing on the large array of ginger freckles that settle primarily on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. With a huff, he makes his way down from the rim of the sink, which he's been sitting on for the last few minutes to get a full view of himself in the mirror, and stomps to his mother._

 _"I just wanna know!"_

 _She finally turns the page that's been between her_ fingers, _and directs her eyes back to the pages. "Lucas..."_

 _"It's the truth."_

 _"No, it ain't."_

 _He crosses his arms defensively._

 _He came to realize that the only way he was going to get the answer he's searching for is if he explains to her what's going on, but he isn't at all enthusiastic to do it. He stares down at his feet, tapping one heel against the other._

 _"Kids at school say they're weird." He mumbles, his words so high pitched and fast it comes out as more of a squeak._

 _"I can't hear you."_

 _"Kids at school say they're weird!" He says loudly and slowly._

 _Her elbow rests on the arms of the recliner she's sitting in, contemplating his words. "I'll tell you this, those freckles of yours ain't gonna be gone anytime soon."_

 _Luke is about to groan in frustration when his mother continues. "But, that doesn't mean you can't make kids like you. Kay?"_

 _"Yes, it does!" Luke argues. "Kids don't wanna talk to me cause they think I look weird, and I look weird cause...freckles!" He points at the offending physical trait as he says the last word._

 _"Have you ever heard of the term, kill'em with kindness?"_

 _Luke nods._

 _His mother goes on. "Do you know what exactly that means?"_

 _"Yeah. Course."_

 _She squints at him._

 _He sighs. "No..." He admits._

 _"Killing people with kindness is when you act extremely kind to a person to get what you want." She explains. "So, if you want friends, you gotta be really really nice them so that they think: 'Wow! Lucas is so nice even though he has freckles! I want him to be my friend!' Then it won't matter if you have freckles anymore."_

 _"That won't work..."_

 _"You'd be surprised."_

 _He grumbles to himself, his original mood not changing in the slightest, if anything, it's gotten worse._

 _"But other than that, they usually fade away as you get older."_

 _"I am old! They're still here!"_

 _"You're only seven, Lucas, you got a long way to go."_

 _He slumps in defeat, standing in his spot for a few more seconds. He watches his mom direct her attention back to her book again, and with that decides to leave her to herself, heading down the hall._

 _"Hey!" His mother calls._

 _He stops where he is and turns to her, she doesn't do the same,_ still _nose deep in her book as she continues._

 _"I used to have freckles too, you know."_

 _Somehow, it makes Luke crack a wide smile, and from then on, he decides he never wants his freckles to go away._

* * *

 _Three years later, his mother asks him a question as casual as can be. "How was your day at school?"_

 _Luke perks up from his spot at the table, the fork that had been picking at his food almost slipping from his hand. Their supper thus far was uneventful until his mother's voice had broken the silence, leaving him to only stare back at her while his mind tries to process the question he was just asked._

 _He lets the question float around his head for awhile until he comes up with an answer he likes. "Um, we have a music project."_

 _She smiles warmly, urging him on. "About what?"_

 _"The Beatles."_

 _"The Beatles? They teach you that at school now?"_

 _"Hey, Lucas, lemme ask you something." His father's deep voice talks over his_ mother, _and the boy's brown eyes are immediately drawn to the man._

 _It was not often his father spoke during supper time, so without a word of protest, both he and his mother cut off their interaction to listen to the man with attentive and obedient ears._

 _"Have ya learned anythin' about agriculture yet?"_

 _Luke's eyes go to his dinner plate. "Not really..." He admits._

 _"The school system is such a waste, I dunno why we're still sendin' ya at this point."_

 _His mother disagrees. "It's not a waste. Do you like music, Luke?"_

 _Luke smiles, nodding. "Yeah. My teacher says I'm really good at it. I'm learning the guitar."_

 _His mother's sight goes from him back to his father, a smirk growing on her face as if she'd just proven a point._

 _His father's dinner plate is empty, and with that, he pulls a cigarette from his back pocket and lights it in his seat. A puff of smoke enters the air as he exhales. "Listen, kid. I'm glad you're havin' a good time learning about music and rock bands and all that crap. But don't go gettin' any big ideas. You're a farm boy, always will be a farm boy. Got it?"_

 _"What does that mean, Joe?" His mother defends him, her hazel eyes sharp and challenging to his father's dark brown._

 _"Don't go makin' me look like the bad guy here, cause I ain't." He says. "I'm just sayin' that I built a life here for Lucas, and I don't wanna see him just throwin' that away. Especially not for some Rockstar bullshit."_

 _She frowns deeply, her eyebrows pinching as if fighting with herself not to overexert her emotions. "I swear, everytime we talk about this, Joe, I can't ever understand your reasoning. I'd think that you, of all people, would want Luke to do somethin' other than takin' on the farm."_

 _Luke's hand reaches for his neck, rubbing the back of it uneasily as he felt the air around him thicken with his parent's growing agitation. With an arched brow, his father's blank eyes challenge his mothers, as if daring her to say any more than she already has._

 _When his father takes too long to react, she does speak again, much to Luke's shock. "Don't you dare try and force-"_

 _"Save it, Julianne."_

 _And just like that, his mother doesn't speak again. She opens her mouth as if she wants to repel his authority, but after a few moments of_ deliberation, _shuts it while looking away._

 _The legs of his father's chair scrap against the wooden floor sharply, the floor continuing to creak as he stuffs his pack of cigarettes back in his pocket and walks through the backyard door, going about his day undisturbed._

 _Both he and his mother stare as his father exits the room. Once he's out of sight, Luke's attention switches to his mother, staring at the dark brown locks of hair that made her unkempt bun, random strands of hair drawn from the hair tie._

 _Her head turns back to him, a melancholy frown weighing down her face. "I'm sorry, Lucas, we shouldn't argue in front of you."_

 _"Are you okay?" He asks instead, ignoring her statement._

 _Her thin lips pull into a gentle smile. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you."_

 _Luke returns her smile with a wide one of his own, his ten-year-old self completely ignorant to her forced smile and words. He picks up his fork and continues eating what's left of his dinner._

* * *

Over the next six months, Luke calls Clementine a total of twenty-one times, but to no avail.

It hurt, but after awhile, Luke came to terms with it. Came to terms with the fact that, based on the way she acted with him when she was first injured, she wasn't going to be talking to him for a very very long time. She was devastated, and he could imagine that seeing him would only bring back bad memories, he can understand that.

He doesn't contact her when her birthday rolls around in late September, and he doesn't contact her once Christmas comes around. She doesn't either.

Which is why Luke is shocked to hear from Clementine a few months after she's healed enough to get out of her wheelchair. Not only hear from her, but be invited to visit her and discuss "employment matters." Apparently, with her time now unoccupied, she was going to be looking for part time jobs soon, and needed advice on the basics of resumes and job interviews.

He's nearly amazed by her recovery. Hearing her through the phone, she sounds as if she had never figure skated in her life, let alone dreamed of being apart of the Winter Olympics before losing the physical capabilities to ever figure skate again.

"How was your Christmas?" He asks her over the phone.

"Pretty jolly." She replies.

"Glad to hear it."

"How about you?"

"It was alright."

"Did you have stupid Christmas themed pajama pants to wear?" She quips.

"Unfortunately, I didn't"

"Thank god."

And so they laugh and joke with eachother without a single care in the world.

The day of, he leaves slightly earlier than arranged and makes his way to the house across from him. The frosty winter air clipping at his winter jacket.

However, when Katjaa greets him at the door, she goes on to tell him Clementine is no longer living there.

"She didn't tell you? She moved into an apartment before going off to the Championship competition."

She must have stayed with Kenny and Katjaa in case something were to happen or she needed to do things she was incapable of doing with her wheelchair.

But he had no idea, Clementine had never messaged him regarding it, and most definitely didn't give him the address.

"Ah. Do you know her apartment address?"

"165 Dougherty Street. Her room number is 511."

He nods. "Thanks. Sorry to bother you."

He turns to leave, but once he's taken two steps away from the front door, Katjaa calls his name hesitantly.

"Luke...wait..."

When he looks at her from over his shoulder, her eyebrows hang low, and her frown cuts deep into her face. Her voice struggles, sore sounding and weak. "I didn't want to bring you into this, but I don't think I have any other choice..."

Luke returns with apprehensive and slow steps back toward her, and she follows suit, not only stepping through the door and into the cold chill of her porch, but shutting the door behind her.

Her mannerisms worry him. Luke's can feel his face contort, his jaw hanging slightly and his eyes wide. He clenches his jaw in an attempt of some control of his emotions, but it does very little for him.

"I think that...I think..." Katjaa whispers to him. "I think somethings wrong with Clementine."

It's information he can already deduce based on what has been happening these past few months. "I thought somethin' was up too-" He says, "-but I think she's startin' to come to terms with things, she seemed fine in our messages and phone calls, at least to me."

"...I thought so...I thought if she was gonna put up an act for anyone it'd be you. I saw otherwise, Luke." She folds her arms. "When she was living with us, she was a completely different person, she barely spoke, she acted like a robot. I had no idea what to do, and I'm even more worried now that I can no longer supervise her."

"If somethin' was wrong, I think she'd letcha' know."

Katjaa stares back at him for a few seconds, and then looks away. "No, she wouldn't."

He goes to speak again, reassure her, but he's stopped when she lets out a low sob. He sees the tears that are welling up in her eyes, and before he can do anything to stop them, her sobbing is getting louder, and she covers her face with her hands.

"I don't know what to do...When you knocked on the door, oh god, I thought you were going to be a cop."

He doesn't know what to do, he's never been in such an emotional situation with the mother. He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. his head is already whirling with the information he's been given so far, so he nothing noteworthy comes to his head to respond with. He says the first thing he can think of. "I'm sorry."

She wipes away her tears, and takes a deep breath, her crying coming to a temporary end. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She says, sniffling. "I don't think she's ever told me anything very personal about herself at all, ever since she's been...my daughter." The way she pauses before saying it, it sounds as if it were the first time she's ever said it at all. "You likely know more about her than I do at this point..."

He keeps his grip on her shoulder, his eyes fighting against meet hers.

"But I..I was hoping to request something of you, Luke, now that I know you're on your way to see her." His eyes fight against meeting hers, but after a few moments, he finally manages to make eye contact with her. "I want you to try and make her open up to you...I know you won't want to push her, but I think she might just talk to you. I need you to find out if something's wrong, okay? C-Can you do that?"

Katjaa's such a kind soul, and the true and raw emotion in her soft voice makes him feel inclined to do something for the older woman, clearly distressed and desperate for a guarantee of Clementine's well being. Even if he'd yet to see it for himself, if she truly believed Clementine was not alright, then he had to find out, not just for her, but for Clementine's sake as well.

When Luke promises he'll look into things, Katjaa hugs him suddenly, thanking him again and again, switching between graciousness and more crying. And as she lets him go on his way, she says something that makes him stop for a second.

"She's going to need you."

* * *

Clementine opens the door of her apartment before Luke can even knock on it.

The dusty haired man is left with his closed fist, originally directed at the door, hovering in the air as he meets her eyes. For a long time, they just stare at eachother, Clementine with a smile on her face, and Luke with his jaw hanging slightly.

"Hi." She says.

"Hey, Clem."

She steps back from the doorway, holding the door open and beckoning him to walk through into her apartment. He does, walking past her and into the living room.

It's much different to his own house, where a majority of the furniture is lent to him from years back. It varies in colour and style, making his house look like some abstract art piece. Clementine's house, however, is fairly organized for what he'd expected, most of the furniture in the living room, such as the couch and lamps, is peach coloured. It looks like the basic room, with a small coffee table in front of the couch and end tables at each side of it, which is directed toward a medium-sized television that is sitting against a wall. On the other wall, behind the couch and television, are two doors that he assumes to be the washroom and bedroom, and he can see the open concept kitchen across from the living room.

Clementine shuts the door behind them. "Thoughts?"

"It's nice."

"And?"

"Looks pretty expensive."

"It was. It is. The rent is crazy." She says as she walks off. "I'm gonna go get my laptop, you can sit down if you like." She practically sprints into her room, and Luke stares at her as she does so, thankful and amazed to see her able to use her legs again, it brings a smile to her face.

When she comes back out, she has her laptop in hand, opening it up and placing it in front of him. "Here's what I have so far, and I've never done this before, so it's gonna be kinda stupid, okay?"

He looks it over quickly, it's in the layout of the average resume you'd find on google image search, which he assumes is where she learned it from. There's really no issue with the way she has chosen to organize the things she has listed.

The issue is that she doesn't have...anything, really. She has the type of resume a highschool freshmen would have, very little to put, and the few things that can be put can't get someone anything more than a fast food job. Maybe she had some leverage being twenty years old, and therefore seen as more mature by employers, but other than that, there's not much that he can imagine attracting people to call her for an interview.

He reads it a second time, and takes notice that not a single mention of figure skating is listed throughout it. Not that it would really matter anyway...considering she can't even skate anymore...but having it listed is better than nothing.

"Are you going to put something for your figure skating?"

She sits silently behind him on the couch, and takes so long to react that Luke worries for a second. "Why?"

"...I mean...it's still experience."

"Not really...unless I'd want to be a hired as a figure skating teacher like Christa."

He raises a puzzled brow. "Why not that? That sounds like the perfect job for you."

She goes silent for the second time, and Luke once again worries his lip when she takes too long to respond. "That'd be...torture, Luke."

"I'm sure you could teach without *actually* skating, they're two different things. You have far more than the experience needed for it."

She seems as if she wants to say more, but she simply nods, adjusting her spot on the couch. "Okay. I guess."

"Anythin' else noteworthy you can think of?"

"I did help Christa with beginner classes, but it wasn't a job, I did it for free."

"Ya think you could talk to her and ask if you could add it to volunteer work?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

His phone vibrates in his back pocket, and he reaches around to take it, looking at the screen and seeing the same number he'd been seeing constantly for the past few weeks.

His father's number. He clicks to decline it, as always.

Clementine gets up from her spot. "Would you like a drink?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Not much." She walks down toward the kitchen, and he hears the sound of her fridge opening. "It's pretty well just sprite and water."

"Get me a sprite, then."

As he waits, Luke brings his attention back to his phone, the notification of a missed call popping up on the screen. He doesn't know why he hasn't blocked his father's number already. He thought the calls would end eventually, but recently he's been getting a call a day from him, sometimes even more. He could block him right now if he wanted to, and he nearly does, his finger barely hovering above the screen. He's almost afraid to go through with it.

...

He hears the sound of Clementine's bedroom door shutting behind him, he turns to it with furrowed brows, and then looks back to the coffee table, an unopened sprite sitting in front of him.

He takes the cold can in his hand. How long had he been lost in thought like that? He genuinely can't say. He's been so zoned out that he hadn't noticed Clementine leaving until she was gone. He drinks the sprite and puts it down as he continues to work on the resume in Clementine's absence, assuming she will come back at some point. However, after half an hour, when he's done what he's had to with the resume and starts spending the last little while looking at random things on his phone, she still has yet to return.

After a while, he becomes concerned. He runs through his head the possibilities of what she's doing, but soon decides he should at least _knock_ on the door.

He speaks as he knocks gently. "Clem?"

"...Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"...Yeah."

With her word, he opens the door.

The first thing he sees is a window in the middle of the wall, it's covered by a thin lavender curtain, through it he can see the purple and orange tones of the evening light leaking into the room, and the other buildings in its view. Icicles, thin but frozen solid, sit atop the window frame, it's menacing presence shades the room from what's remaining of the daylight, leaving the room darker than it should be.

The room's wallpaper is a plain grey, but he sees a few different pictures hanging on the wall, some are family pictures of Clementine with Kenny, Katjaa, and Ken, others are small paintings of flowers or scenery, the usual. There's a wooden shutter door by the window that he assumes to be a closet, and on the wall beside it is a dresser, with piles of random clothes on top of it. A series of white shelves sit beside it, a few of them have what looks to be DVDs and books, and others have the most random of things, sticky notes, pencils, unopened packages of hairclips or ponytails, many different kinds of knick-knacks. It, however, doesn't have the one thing he'd expect it to have, no trophies or medals are to be the seen. The same goes for everything in the house. Her room back at Kenny and Katjaa's house had had many different figure skating related things attached to it, enough that he was able to deduce she was a figure skater the first day he met her. But her current room left no traces of such a thing, if it were his first time in there, and he had not known her as well as he did, he would have no idea she ever figure skated in her life.

Right beside him, as he enters the room, is an end table with a turned off lamp, that leads to the bed. The bed shares the same lavender theme as the curtains. The blankets share the color, with some sort of pattern on them that he can't decipher.

On the bed, atop the bed sheets, lays Clementine, who sits up once his gaze reaches her.

"Were you sleepin'?" Luke asks. "Am I that boring to hang out with?"

"No! I just...I just went to relax and lay down for a bit."

"For half an hour?"

"Yeah, sorry. I kept telling myself I should probably get up and go back to working on my resume with you, but I didn't."

"Hm. Really now?"

"Yep." She says. "You can lay down."

He looks down toward the open space beside her on the bed, and hesitates. "I reckon this means the resume is off?"

"Honestly, I'd rather blow my brains out then talk about the resume again."

Luke grits his teeth. "Okay, okay. No more resume then." He slowly approaches her bedside, still unsure if she realizes exactly what she's asking him.

Once she notices his dubious movements, she speaks. "What?"

"Do you usually ask random guys to lay in your bed with you?"

She pauses, regarding him with an arched brow. "You're not a random guy, I've known you for years. I trust you."

That makes sense. In a way. He sits and crosses his legs on the bed, looking over at her.

"Besides..." She begins. "What are you gonna do anyway? Accidentally touch my elbow? God forbid."

He laughs sarcastically. "I really do like elbows."

She giggles at that.

For a short time, they stay silent, Luke directs his attention to the window that's framed with long strings of icicles. His thoughts go back to his father, and his inner self immediately screams for those thoughts to be pushed away. He doesn't want to think about him right now, when he thought about him, he thought about everything else, and that's the last thing he needs right now.

Clementine's voice cuts through his thoughts. "Something kinda hit me the other day." He turns his head to her, thankful her words would distract him from himself. "I don't really know that much about you."

"...Whatdya mean by that?"

"Like...I don't know anything that personal about you." She says. "I mean like...in comparison to what you know about me."

He couldn't say she was wrong. He looks away for a moment, thinking of a response. "Well...whatcha wanna know?"

A pause. "I dunno."

"Decisive as usual, I see."

She closes her eyes. "Let me think." After she puts her thoughts together, she speaks again. _"Art history."_ She states vaguely.

"Art history? What about it?"

"Why'd you study it? It's kinda a useless degree. Did you not know that?"

He clears his throat. "I did, actually. But I really liked it. I took a visual arts class in my grade 9 year, and I learned to draw more than stick men. We got around to our art history unit...and 'course everyone complained, they thought it was boring, they wanted to draw. But it was _my_ favourite part, it's what kept me takin' art classes. My friend Bonnie told me I was probably the only art kid in America who took art classes for the historic part of it."

Clementine smiles. "History fan?"

"Yeah, history was probably my favourite subject. I learned about the World Wars and Civil War too...and that was cool and all but Art History was so much more interesting to me."

The young woman props up her elbow and leans her chin onto her palm, staring up at him with curious eyes. "So...you just did it cause you wanted to?"

"Yeah…" he says, laughter on his lips. "Sounds stupid now that I think about it but...knowin' it wasn't gonna get me any good jobs, it's still what I wanted to do. No one told me to do it, no one tried to convince me. It was me, I liked it, I wanted it. And like...for the first time ever I was set on doin' this _one thing_ for myself." He pauses, crossing his arms. "It was stupid."

"It's not stupid," Clementine says softly, punching his shoulder playfully. "I mean, I'm sure you learned a lot, and you enjoyed doing it."

He can't help but have his lips hook into a smile. Her reassuring words overall brightening his attitude. He feels more confident in himself as he lowers down from his sitting position, laying down on the bed as Clementine is and facing her. "Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?"

"Kinda." She replies. "He made Starry Night, right?"

"Yeah. I've learned a lot about different artists, but I reckon he's my favourite."

"Why's that?"

"It's funny cause I'm not even that into his art. His art is very bright with contrasting and vibrant colours, and a lotta his pieces have these similar underlying themes of depression. I personally prefer the Rococo style paintings of the 1700s." He explains reverently, enthusiastic for the chance to talk about all the things he's learned about, it felt like years since he's had the chance to talk about his knowledge of historic art. He'd never met anyone who shared the same interest. "He became my favourite once I learned his story. It's actually pretty sad. But he spent most of his life broke, he was passionate about it, but his art never sold well. He had a lot of mental health issues cause of it, it's probably why a lot of his paintings ended up so depressing." He decides to add something peculiar after a pause. "Once he cut off his ear and gave it to a prostitute."

"What? Why?"

"Who knows? Somethin' in his head really wasn't right at the time."

"Damn. I was hooked until he started giving out free earlobes."

He let out a chuckle, continuing. "Anyway, his brother, his name was Theo, he was the only one who believed he could make it as an artist, he helped sell his art, but like I said before, it was really tough for him, his art wasn't selling." He says. "So...after a couple years, he ended up killing himself."

Clementine's eyes widen, her brows furrowing. "Why? I mean...he got famous eventually, didn't he? That's why people like you learn about him."

"He became famous after he died…" Luke reveals with a damper tone. "He wasn't even alive to see his dreams become a reality. No one gave a shit till he was gone."

"That's…" Her eyes gaze down towards the blankets. "That's actually really tragic."

Luke shifts around in his spot, his eyes staring up at the dark ceiling above. "I think he was scared. Before his death, I think he thought his brother was losing faith in his art...losing faith in him. And it terrified him."

A pause. "I don't really see why you'd like him, if I'm being honest."

"Really?"

"Well you said you didn't like his art because it was depressing, didn't you?"

He gives in. "I didn't _say_ that, but I suppose that's true. I like the Rococo style because it's much more peaceful and relaxing, with soft colours. Puts a smile on my face, y'know?"

"If you don't like depressing art, then why would you like him for his story? That's as depressing as it gets."

Luke actually needs some time to think about it, his teeth catch his lip as he figures out an answer. "Well...I guess cause...he kinda won in the end."

She stifles a laugh, giving him a skeptical look. "What do you mean _won!?_ He _died,_ Luke."

"But he got what he wanted. I reckon...if there is a heaven, and he could see everything that's gone on since he died, he would be glad. He just as easily could have been forgotten; But he wasn't, his art was finally given recognition, and that was all he wanted, wasn't it?"

"...I guess, yeah."

A pause. "And maybe he can live on through his art."

That's the last of what is said between the two. They lapse into a comfortable silence, where he listens to nothing more than the sound of his own breathing in the small room. It's getting late, later than he originally intended on staying, and the evening hue of the room is dimming along with the night sky. Part of him thinks it's about time he leaves, especially with the fact he can feel his eyelids growing heavy from his own exhaustion.

Before he can do that, after what could have been twenty minutes of nothing but the two laying on the bed silently, Clementine speaks.

Her voice sounds so different, it's tiny and vulnerable, but pitched with a forlorn he isn't used to from her. He swears he can hear her breath hitting his ear as she says it. "I'm scared, Luke."

His mind is hazy, he can barely keep his eyes open, but he tries to muster up some form of response. "...Of what?"

It takes her so long to reply that Luke assumes she's not going to say anything. The last thing he sees are the icicles hanging outside her window before he shuts his eyes completely, nearly fast asleep.

…

…

…

"Of me."

* * *

The warm sunlight hits him through the curtain as his almond eyes flutter open. He rolls over onto the other side of the bed, and automatically can tell the difference. The blankets are much softer and thicker compared to his own, and his head sinks into the pillows in a way the stiff pillows at his house would never allow. He takes a moment to let himself soak in the new atmosphere before finally getting up.

When his eyes meet shades of lavender, he practically throws the blankets off himself in realization. He's in Clementine's room. His head snaps to the space beside him and sees nothing but an unoccupied area of the mattress.

He feels guilty for overstaying his welcome, he hadn't meant to fall asleep. He gets out of the bed and stands up in a rush, feeling dizzy and having to take a moment to stabilize himself.

He slowly opens the door, and looks into the living room area. "Clementine…?"

No response. He steps into the living room, rubbing the sleep out his eyes and holding back a yawn. He starts to wander aimlessly for the missing woman, his gaze searching for just about anything at this point. In his sleepy daze, he comes too close to the wall, and his shoulder hooks onto the bottom of a picture frame, the picture nearly falling off the wall. He catches it, and adjusts it so it appears untouched.

An older dark-skinned man, with shaven hair and a round face, stares back at him with dark eyes, wearing a dress shirt and smiling wide toward the camera. His arm is wrapped around the plump woman beside him, wearing a green shirt and sharing his friendly smile. Her dark hair is naturally coiled, and her face indicates a kind and good-natured personality. The child in front of them sits cross-legged, wearing plain yellow clothing and having a smile softer compared to what he guesses is her parents. She looks to be in her earliest of Elementary school years, maybe six or seven, and her appearance generally matches with that of her mother; she has a looser and more untamed version of her mother's curly hair, and even her face resembles that of the older woman, but paired with the young features that come with her youth, such as plump cheeks and a small nose.

It doesn't take him very long to figure out that the young girl is Clementine, although visually very different, he's able to pick out the traits he saw in her during her middle school and teenage years. At the very least, her hair and lighter eyes strike him the most.

The older two on the other hand...he could be wrong, but he has an inkling that they're-

"My parents."

He turns to the voice and manages an awkward laugh. "Yeah. Thought so."

Clementine nods, her lips force a smile, but she appears oddly weary and jaded. He wonders if she's usually like this in the mornings.

"You look like your mom." He remarks. Taking a look at her as she is now, the similarities are fewer than in her youth. She doesn't have her mother's big eyes or rounded lips, in fact, maybe on second glance she resembles her father more.

He continues. "I'm a lil' surprised you got them hanged up here."

"Why?"

"You just don't talk about 'em often."

He watches her eyes move around in thought, down toward the ground and back up to him. A pout is on her lips. "I'm not...ashamed of them or anything."

"I-I didn't mean that." He insists. "I...not at all."

Her light eyes move away from him again, flickering with an emotion he can't recognize from her, but he hopes he hasn't said something to hurt her feelings. She takes a hold of his hand before he can think too much about it.

"I know." She reassures him as she drags him back off to the couch.

She lets go of his hand as they both sit down together, Clementine leaning into the couch with crossed arms, a thoughtful expression on her face but her eyes not meeting his. "My parent's names were Ed and Diana, my dad was an engineer and my mom was a doctor."

"Nice jobs." He comments.

"Yeah, we were quite well off." She says. "That's why they were able to pay for my figure skating, five times a week. It's not cheap."

His ears almost twitch like a dog's would. She'd been reluctant to mention her figure skating before, and he was shocked and almost relieved to hear it brought up by her.

"So you started young?"

"Very young."

He has an urge to ask one of the most important questions, a question that may have been on his mind for years now. "What made you wanna be a figure skater?"

She seems to stiffen in her place when he asks that. "I...I don't know."

The side of his lip hooks into a half smile. "Ah well, do you mind if I get a drink real quick?"

She doesn't say anything, her gaze still far away from his.

He decides to settle for tap water this time, searching around the separate cupboards for the cups, and finds them after having already checked several places. He takes the tall, clear glass and flicks the tap on, letting the room temperature water run through his fingers as he waits for it to go cold.

As he's filling the cup, he hears a huge thump from behind him. He glances at the source, and can barely see the outline of Clementine standing in the living room. She seems fine, so he turns back and fills his glass nearly to the brim, the water barely spilling from the corners as he brings it close to his mouth to drink away the extra water.

Another loud bang. After that comes the sound of glass, cracking with a sharp sound that hurts his ears and hitting the floor. His lips abruptly leave his glass, and he nearly lets the cup slip from his hand in his haste, but he places it on the counter as quickly as possible before returning to the living room.

Clementine stands once again in front of that same family picture of her and her parents. Shadows cover and cling helplessly to her silhouette, but the sunlight that comes through a tiny window near the television is angled perfectly toward her right fist. He can only see one thing. The deep red that runs through the in-betweens of her fingers, dripping onto the ground in an almost taunting rhythm.

He's stuck there. All he can hear is the sound of his heavy breathing.

Her head turns to the side so slowly, he stays where he is until he can see the small flickers of gold that make her eyes. They're wide and vulnerable, and all of a sudden Luke puts aside his fear and goes to her. He takes her hands and is immediately pricked by shards of glass that are stuck in her knuckles. He stares at her palms and sees that her knuckles are where the outpour of blood is coming from. His sights go from that to the shards of glass on the ground, to the picture.

The picture is unchanged, except the covering of thin glass that once settled over it is visibly disturbed, an uneven hole of broken glass in the middle of it. He can see tiny marks of Clementine's blood on it, over her mother and father and even herself.

He doesn't understand.

"What did you do...?"

She doesn't say anything.

"Clem..."

He brings her to the kitchen and puts her hand under the sink, keeping a tight grip on her wrist, she can't withdraw her hand when she feels the stinging feeling of cold water hitting the insides of her skin. He runs his thumb over the flesh delicately, trying to pick out the tiny fragments of glass that have entered her skin.

"Do you have...Do you have a first aid kit?"

Nothing.

"K-Keep your hand there..." He instructs unconfidently, releasing her right hand and going around the kitchen, opening random drawers and hoping he'll find _something_ useful.

But amongst everything, he can't even focus, he's so panicked and confused that it starts to feel like he's just constantly slamming cupboards and drawers for no reason. He decides to take a step back and take a breather, running his fingers through his hair and ignoring the tangles that disrupt it. He hadn't brushed it since the day before.

He looks up at Clementine as she speaks. "I didn't even want to, you know that? I _told_ them I didn't like it, but they made me go anyway." Her amber eyes are sharp when they connect with his, something intense glows in those eyes of hers, and Luke is almost intimidated by the way they're directed at him. She doesn't clarify her words, awaiting a response from him.

He needs a moment to recollect himself before he can reply. "W-What?" Is all he manages.

She's silent again. It's starting to frustrate him.

She seems to be able to tell he's growing agitated, because she speaks again after that, looking down at her hand. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was doing...I just kinda..."

"Stop!" He says, his voice going lower as he continues. "Just stop. It's okay, Clem."

He goes back to his search, trying to focus on the task at hand. After checking the kitchen another time, this time with a clearer head, he decides to head to the bathroom. He's wary of leaving her alone, so he rushes through it. He finds medical tape rather quickly, and he silently wants to punch himself for not checking the bathroom earlier.

He heads back and is relieved to see the woman in the same spot she was in before. He turns off the tap and takes her hand from the sink, taking a stray towel that sits on the counter and drying her hand with it. Tiny beads of blood still sprout from the cuts on her knuckles, but it isn't enough to worry him as he brings her back to the couches.

She goes to move her hand away from him as they sit facing eachother on the couch, but Luke catches it and brings it back to him once he notices it.

The wounds aren't too deep as he begins the wrap medical tape around her hand, might need nothing more than a few bandaids, but he couldn't find any for the life of him, and he found it better to be safe than sorry. All of his attention is put on the simple task of wrapping her hand, and he doesn't have the time to care about how silent it is.

"I didn't want to be a figure skater," Clementine confesses, breaking the silence.

Luke disrupts the stare he has on her hand, and glances at her, she's staring at her own hand as well. "You _didn't_ want to?" He repeats back to her.

She promptly shakes her head. "No. No. I hated it so much. I told them every time they took me that I hated it, that I didn't wanna do it, but they didn't even care."

"Who is _'they'?"_

 _"My parents!"_ She bursts out, her voice cracks. "My mom wanted me to be a figure skater. She told me she always imagined her daughter would be a figure skater. She wanted to be a figure skater growing up too. But I didn't like it! I couldn't stand it!"

Her delirious yelling resounds through the room. When she stops, Luke finally notices that he had, at some point during her confession, stopped bandaging her hand. He continues the action again, put a little on edge by her silence. He hung onto every word that came from lips like his life depended on it, like it was the thread of life. It was equivalent to when he found out Santa wasn't real. His entire world had just been flipped upside down, and a part of him wants to ask for her to reiterate, to continue and add more details.

Stop being so vague. He wants to demand it.

But he can't, it's not right. He's not entitled to know, as much as he wants it. Clementine could only tell him as much as she felt comfortable with.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees her golden hues as she raises his head to look at him. He responds back by mirroring the action, and their eyes meet.

She doesn't break eye contact when she says it, there's a look of realization and almost terror growing on her face. "I've...never told anyone that before."

He drops her hand half bandaged, grabbing her shoulders firmly and looking straight into her eyes, seeking to soothe the horror that melts into her face. "Hey, hey, it's okay. There's nothin' wrong with...lettin' things out like that."

He hears her take a deep breath, and slowly he goes back to dealing with her hand, nearly finished covering it.

"Once, I was at a practice and I just...snapped, I threw a temper tantrum and my figure skating teacher had to call my parents to take me home early. They both came to get me, together. It was raining...maybe hailing I don't know...but the roads...they were really bad, so they...crashed."

He doesn't respond, but he gives her tiny looks upward to let her know he's listening to all she has to say.

"...And that's how...they died. They died upon impact. I was waiting for hours, with no idea, and I remember being so mad at them for keeping me waiting so long...I kept telling myself I hated them."

He finishes with the bandages, now wrapped snuggly around her hand, he holds it, seeking to comfort her in some shape or form. "That's...That must have been terrible, Clem. I'm so sorry." He knows his words must fall flat, it's the generic response to a tragedy. He wants to say so much more, but he fears he'll pass that invisible line of what's going to help and what's going make things worse.

"How could I think I hated them!? My own parents?" Water is brimming in the edges of her eyes when she continues. "I decided I would become the Olympic figure skater they always wanted, when Lee adopted me...I told him that was all I wanted, so he put _everything_ into it because he thought it'd make me happy. He spent so much money on lessons and getting me a coach like Christa. Then all of a sudden, _he_ was gone too, he got diagnosed with something terminal, and died a few months after." She paused for a moment, trying to collect herself. "I was only eleven, but after that everything seemed to upset me. I was so sad _all the time._ I always found a way to cry every single day. I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up."

"Clem..."

"And I'm feeling...like that, again. Actually, I'm feeling worse. So much worse. I just...I just...I can't do this anymore! Okay!? I can't! "

Her words start to come out quicker, they shock him, they worry him, and he hears the way she's out of breath. He recognizes it, he's seen it before, in his childhood.

"You should relax, okay? I think you're panicking too much. Maybe you should lay down..." He advises in the gentlest tone he can muster. He takes her hand and gently tries to get her standing, but she doesn't budge, looking away from him and whimpering.

"Clementine...look at me, please." He begs gently.

...

...

...

She does and he's heartbroken by what he sees.

The blood that runs through his veins, making his heart beat, feels as if it's freezing. He feels as if he could drop dead right there as memories begin to drown his mind.

Because in those eyes...In _her_ eyes, among sparkling gold that he'd once seen burn and flicker like a fire, filled with passion and pride, he sees something else. Something broken, something wrong, as if behind those eyes she's breaking apart at the seams.

He's seen it before, so many times.

And it all begins to connect. Her desperate and out of control actions that just couldn't make sense to him. He hears the sound of bottles shattering as they did that day she seemed to snap, he hears the words that came from her mouth that day, hitting him like frostbite.

 _"That's disgusting! You're disgusting!"_

 _"You're such an idiot."_

 _"You're a disgusting horny bastard! I hate you!"_

When he sees her sitting there, staring at him with wide eyes, he can only think of one thing, one person.

His mother.

Luke holds onto her so tight he thinks she might just break, and her teardrops fall like icicles melting in the burning sun.

...

...

...

He can't help her.

She's broken and he can't do anything about it.

He wishes her all the best, but this is it. He can't do this again.

He's done this before, all she has been doing, all the symptoms she's been showing, his mother showed the same to him all those years ago. And he knows what happened with that, he can't do that again. He was ignorant back then, thinking he could do something, anything to help his mother.

But the truth was his mother was doomed.

He doesn't know how he watched an eleven-year-old girl slowly turn into the broken soul his mother was, but there was nothing he can do about it now, and he swears to himself he isn't going to sit here, pretending he can help, and watch her fall apart right in front of him.

He leaves her house before she can do much else, claiming he had errands to run, saying he couldn't stay any longer. She can't even protest before he's out the door and in the elevator back down to the first floor.

The one thing he hears when he shuts the door to his car is someone calling his name. "Luke?"

It's Katjaa's voice, he recognizes the tone and accent. With a guilty sigh, he turns to her, and watches as she walks up his driveway.

"How was Clementine's? Were you there the whole night?"

He goes straight to the point. "Clementine...isn't okay." He says, continuing while Katjaa just stares back at him agape. "You asked me to find out, I did, and she needs help. Please get her help."

"I...My goodness, I didn't expect you to be so blunt."

"I know...I can't see her again." He turns away again, wanting to cut off the conversation before Katjaa can convince him otherwise. "Uh...if she asks you, tell her that I really hope things get better for her, and that I'm rootin' for her."

When he makes to leave, Katjaa shouts for him. "Wait, Luke!" He stops for only a second. "Someone was...looking for you, earlier."

He pauses, clenching his fists uneasily. "Who...?"

"I-I don't know. He didn't tell me his name." She says, her voice going quieter. "But he looked like you."

 _No._

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know. I didn't see..."

He still doesn't face her, he can't move. "Thanks...for lettin' me know." He doesn't know how long he stands there, but it's enough to hear Katjaa give him a quiet goodbye, listening to her slow retreating steps go down his driveway.

He sees icicles frame the entrance of his house the same way they framed Clementine's apartment window, but these are thicker, even more noticeable. Long, solid sticks of ice. At first sight, they seem harmless, almost beautiful in their own way. But some icicles were sharp enough to impale a person, sharp enough to kill. Among soft layers of white fluffy snow in the winter, there was always icicles.

He takes a hold of one of the longer ones, more intimidating in its size than the others. When he touches it, the shape doesn't change, it stays in its exact form, and it clings to the warmth of his skin. He can feel his hand sticking to it, the freezing cold frost feels as if it's piercing into his palm, and when it became too much to bear, he let it fall from his hand, and watches as it breaks into big chucks on the ground.

Approaching his door, he doesn't know why, but he _feels_ it, an overwhelming feeling of trepidation. He does nothing but hold the handle of his front doorknob, because he doesn't want to open it, because he _knows_ what's going to be in there, and every single part of him doesn't want to see it.

He can't see him. Not now.

It's like the doorknob turns and opens the door on its own, because he's sure he didn't have the courage to do it himself. The door lets out a long creak as it moves to the side, letting him see the inside of his house, so eerily untouched and silent.

He only needs to take a few steps before he meets matching eyes. Sitting on his couch, far too relaxed and without a care, almost inhumane, almond eyes look back at him. Thin, hazelnut tufts of hair, with strands of greying hair throughout, sitting atop his head, the wrinkles are deeper than he remembered, around his eyes, in his cheeks, on the edges of his thin, chapped lips. They look almost smug. It almost feels like looking into a mirror, looking at an older version of himself. _He hates that_. He's always hated that.

The man smiles smugly, almost relishing in Luke's horrified expression. He gets up from the couch with an exaggerated groan, the smile never leaving his face.

"Long time no see, Lucas."


	7. VII

**A/N:** Hello! Long time no see.I must admit it took me faaaarrr too long to finish this chapter, but it's only because so much is going on, and it's a lot to wrap up, maybe even too much. I also decided to take a break after my last two updates came early, but I might have overestimated how much time I had before my next due date would come. So although this is a month late, I hope everyone enjoys! The chapters after this I've been anticipating ever since we went deep into the angst of everything. I hope everyone will enjoy it as well! Updates should go back to normal.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **SpookersInTheWoods:** I'm so happy you enjoyed! I love your reviews, they're very enthusiastic and make me smile. I also want to start reading your work at some point! Thank you for reading!

 **Trigger Warnings:** Domestic Abuse, Vomiting.

* * *

 **Playlist:**

1\. Breezeblocks by Alt J

2\. Arctic by Sleeping At Last.

3\. You by Petit Biscuit.

* * *

 **Icicles:**

Chapter 7

x

roseabellaaa

* * *

"Come on! Ain't got anythin' to say to your old man?"

Stunned to silence, Luke fights every instinctual part of himself that wants to be polite. He'd been taught since he was young that his father _always_ deserved respect, and his first instinct is to follow that philosophy. Complete obedience was built into him long ago, for the longest time, he knew nothing else. He'd gone against his father before, but that didn't make each and every time he had to more and more challenging.

"If I called the police right now-"

"Called the police!?" He bursts into laughter.

Luke shouts back. "You broke into my house!"

"If you don't want someone in your house so bad you should try lockin' it when you leave." He says. "I tried to call you, but I was ignored. These are desperate measures."

Luke takes his phone out of his coat pocket. "Have fun tellin' the cops that then..."

The phone is slapped out of his hand, falling to the ground with an alarming crack against the hardwood. He doesn't have much time to assess the damage until his eyes go back to his father. The grin that had been on his face since the conversation began is long gone.

The grip he has on his wrist is so strong he can't even complete the slightest of movements with his hand. His father's dark eyes are narrowing on him, and just as in his childhood, Luke feels like they can read every part of his heart and mind.

His voice is a whisper, but they hold so much rage. "You wanna make threats, Lucas? I'll show you threats."

With his other hand, he forces the older man to release his grip on his wrist without much retaliation.

He takes a cautious step back, and his father's face goes back to its casual smirk.

"I missed you, Lucas, I really did."

"Sure, dad." Luke hisses back, trying his best to uphold some form of dominance over his father. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"Oh. We usin' big words now, huh?"

He pauses, nibbling on his lip.

How did he do that? How did his father always have a way to make him feel like the smallest, most insignificant thing on the planet. From the way his eyes survey him, the way he grins without a care in moments that Luke couldn't even sport the tiniest of smiles, the way he speaks as if Luke were a pet, having to be disciplined.

It'd been that way for as long as Luke can remember, and as a child, he used to think that one day he would know how to counter it. Once he was older, he'd be able to show his father what he was made of.

But here he is; terrified, with no idea what to do.

"Lucas, I'm almost sixty years old. I'm deteriorating, I can do the littlest thing and my back completely gives out! I need to take a buncha pills now, daily, just for my damn neck and back!"

"What does that have to do with me?" Luke bites back.

"The _farm,_ Lucas." His father hisses back. "The crops at the farm this year died, every last one of them, and you know why? Cause I'm gettin' old. I can't take care of it on my own anymore." The brunette flinches as his father's hand comes close to him, but finds himself holding back a sigh of relief when the man does nothing more but firmly grip his shoulder.

But all at once, his body stiffens again, matching shades of brown meeting eachother as realization strikes him.

"No. No. Dad, no." He'd gotten away from that the day he escaped Tennesse, what was the point of coming here if his father was only gonna return years later with the same request he's always had, the same things he's always wanted from him?

The tiniest part of him wondered if maybe his father had come here to repair their broken relationship, but of course, it's _this._ He feels like a complete idiot for thinking otherwise.

"We've been fightin' eachother on this since mom left. I am not takin' over the farm! Can't you just give up on that! Please! I'm beggin' ya!"

"It's a lot better than that shitty hardware job I heard you had up here. I swear you and your mother with bein' so dramatic. Always gotta make it one big show." He complains, carelessly releasing the hold he has on Luke. "I am your father, for the years I spent takin' care of you, I think you comin' over and holdin' up the farm I dedicated my life to is the _least_ you can do, kid."

"Takin' care of me? Dad, are you serious!?" He says. "I never even saw you half the time! Mom was always takin' care of me, you barely even looked at me."

"Oh, here we go..."

"I can't even remember a time you told me you loved me."

His father just squints at him, Luke shrinking under his glare. "You know what I've _never_ heard from you?"

"What?"

"A 'thank you' for godsake!" He shouts. "After bustin' my ass for you, you treat me like I'm some kinda monster! And then your mother is some godsend! You and I both know what she did, who she was. You can convince yourself it never happened, that she was just the most wonderful woman on this planet, but that doesn't change anythin'!"

"What!? What exactly did she do, huh!? Disobeyed you?

"She was a crazy bitch! She nearly _killed_ you!"

...

The simple idea of it makes his fast heart stop where it is. He knows that isn't true, it's complete bullshit, more of his father's hopeless attempts to sway Luke onto his side, and save what was left of their family farm. But it hurt to know his father would even go to that level, not just toward his son's mother, but his own wife.

' _How dare you!?'_ He wants to scream back. His hands ball into fists as he fights against the part of himself that is dying to punch him. His face contorts in a way that makes every edge and crinkle of his face _hurt,_ he wants the fury to be clear on his face, and he hopes his father is able to have some drop of remorse for the horrible things he's saying.

Every memory he can recall of his mother is one of pure love and care, of her kind smiles that never seemed to cease, even in the worst of times. The woman that fought to protect and support him in all he did, even if that meant going against her husband, does not deserve to be treated this way.

The only time she was ever anything but loving toward him was deep into her depression, but she had no control over that, she'd been forced into such a dark place by his father. By him too. Because neither of them were as grateful and loving to her as they should have been, as she always deserved.

But just then, he feels the walls of his throat close unevoked. As much as his rage prompts him to scream, he can make no more than a weak groan.

What is that?

...

In his throat?

He feels it.

...

But nothing's there, nothing can be there.

It hurts.

...

His father's voice echoes in his thoughts. "...Are you about to-"

He feels that unsettling feeling deep in his stomach, and rushes past his father and down the hall. As he walks through the door of his bathroom, it slams against the wall in his rush. The contents of his stomachs rise up into his throat, heaving lowly before he vomits into the sink.

* * *

 _..._

 _With the loud creak of a door, light unleashes through the room, bathing the silhouette above him in a tan light. With hollow cheeks, sunken olive eyes, and an ivory complexion, the woman casts an inescapable shadow._

 _Dizzy and in a haze, the hoarse voice of his father almost awakens him._

 _"What the fuck!?"_

 _His mind fights for movement, but his body gives no response. Nearly numb, all he feels is the ends of brunette hair that barely touch his cheeks, his own saliva coating his face, and the infrequent convulses of his body._

 _"Don't touch me!" The woman cries, as a large hand is rung on her wrist, minuscule in comparison, jagged edges poking from it. The skin is so pale and translucent, he catches the sight of veins going down her forearm, blue and red, just like the pills scattered around him, surrounding him like the silver links of a cage._

 _The woman's thrown away from his motionless body without hesitation, and almond eyes squint down at him. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you do to him!?" He exclaims from over his shoulder._

 _The pills stuck in his throat won't move, even when he uses the last of his energy to try and gag them out._

When _he sees nothing but black, he firmly believes he's dying._

* * *

After what could have been an hour, Luke stands from the corner of the bathroom he's sitting in, embarrassed and ashamed with a chill trailing down his spine.

A small part of him believes he will walk into the living room again with his father nowhere in sight; a part of his imagination, a nightmare.

But that hope is relinquished, because the door of his bathroom opens immediately after that thought, and his father's head peeks out. Nose crinkled in disgust as his gaze moves up and down his body.

"You're an absolute fuckin' mess."

"Tell me it ain't true." Luke falls to his knees in front of him, begging.

His father's features relax with his realization, knowing exactly what the question is referring to. "I had to call an ambulance all the way to our damn house." He explains as Luke's vulnerable eyes stare back at him. "I dunno what the hell ya had to convince yourself...but your mother, Julianne, was psychotic, alright? That ain't some hyperbole."

 _It didn't happen._ He tells himself. _It didn't._

It feels like something out of one of those horror movies he'd watch with Nick in highschool. Something only disturbing enough to come from the twisted mind of his father. If anyone was insane...or _psychotic,_ it was him.

But he remembers it all so clearly, it paralyzes every muscle of his body, his throat closes in and he can barely breathe, just like that night. He can't find it in himself to stand. Pathetically he lays down, his back and neck stiff against the hard, flat floor. He's tormented by the way the ceiling spins above him, moving closer and farther, teasing him, sneering at him. All he can do is lay there, wishing it would just come down and crush him where he is.

"Lucas." His father's blurry form appears above him, clapping loudly in an attempt to regain his attention. "Lucas!"

He covers his face with his hands, feeling his head begin to ache with the flurry of images both above him and in his head. "You both just got a divorce, that was it, wasn't it?"

"Why do you think I got full custody, Lucas?" His father replies, Luke hears shuffling as he crouches down beside him. "Not half custody, _full_ custody, and a restraining order against the witch too. Do you know how hard it is to argue full custody in court!? And as a father too!"

When Luke lays there, refusing to answer, his father continues.

"She was _charged,_ Lucas, with child endangerment. Went to jail for a good two years. That's why _I_ have full custody, and that's why you haven't seen her since."

...

And so he lays there. Not a single word comes to mind. His thoughts don't even have the energy or power to deny his claims.

"I'm all you have left, kid. You're all I have left."

Luke lets his hands go back to his sides, his blurry vision adjusting to the familiar face above him, wrinkled and damaged.

"Let's put all this bullshit behind us, Lucas. Let's be a family again." His father says. "We'll be father and son again."

"Were we ever father and son?" Luke whispers, clenching his fists as if prepared to receive a punch for that comment.

The matching brown eyes just stare back at him, expression unchanging. _"Once."_

Luke sits up as his father reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet and opening it. With attentive eyes, he watches him pull out a small picture, offering it to Luke.

He feels his eyebrows furrow as he examines it. On it is a man with shaggy chestnut locks just like his own, dark flyway hairs following the breeze. A wide and genuine smile rests on his face, surrounded by brunette facial hair, like Luke's but darker and thicker. When his eyes first set upon the man, he assumes it to be himself, but the minor differences he catches remind him otherwise.

 _His father._ He realizes.

On the man's shoulders sits a young boy, with thin legs a chubby face covered in freckles, and a smile just as wide as his fathers. He'd know it anywhere, the messy brown hair curling around his cheeks, the eyes filled with innocence and wonder.

"Probably don't remember it, might've been about three in that picture there."

Luke's tense face begins to relax, his mouth resting into a melancholy frown.

"You always loved the farm growin' up, never thought it'd be this hard to try and pass it over to ya."

"I liked horse ridin'..."

"One of the best riders I knew."

"-and watchin' Duke gather all the sheep into the barn before dinner."

His father has nothing to respond with, and as Luke looks up at him curiously, he sees an expression on his face he can't recall ever seeing before. The edge of his mouth rises into what he could barely call a smile. Not quite a smile, but genuine, and enough for the walls he spent the past ten years building to fall. Walls he made specifically for him, to keep him away, to never see him again. Who knew they could fall so easily?

He hates his father, and he loves him so much.

"Whatdya say, son?"

* * *

She doesn't know how her mind works like this. How she manages to torture herself like this.

Just a few hours ago, she had been filled with nothing but joy. Laughter bubbling within her and escaping in short bursts of enthusiasm. The edges of her lips had grown sore from her wide smile.

The company of Luke by her side, speaking openly to her. Stories and tales she's enchanted by through his soft voice.

In her ears, she could almost hear the dripping of water as the fright and pain in her frozen heart melted away.

But that didn't mean it was gone. Rather than evaporate, the melted water pools into her gut and courses through her veins, pursuing it's venture to the heart. As her heart pumps her blood through every limb and organ of her body, it calls for the water that is her pain and fear, like a mother calling for her child.

Eventually, it is unavoidable. It is a part of her once again. No escape is in sight.

Her heart is a demon to her, craving her sorrows and hardships, begging for her pain to remain unforgotten. She finds that her body is not truly hers. It belongs to something else. Something that wants to hurt her. Something that relishes in the tears she sheds into her pillow at night, aroused by the sight of her blood, her bruises, her scratches, and scars.

 _"And maybe he can live on through his art."_

 _The silence that follows feels like a descent into madness. Her head sinks further into her feather pillow, and she's almost afraid to speak. Amber eyes peek at him from where she's laying, stealing fleeting glances he won't notice. She wishes she could tell him everything, but he already knows enough. Maybe too much even, it felt unfair to leave all her problems on his shoulders. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and imagining herself begging for his comfort made her feel pathetic. Though it wasn't the worst thing she'd thought about herself._

 _In fact, her mind was already being filled to the brim with insults created for her, by her, and insults were the least of it. Her consciousness seems to warp any image of herself in her head into something horrific, things happening to herself that she'd never wish upon anyone._

 _Self-indulgence._

 _It slips out before she can stop it. "I'm scared, Luke."_

 _The amount of time it takes him to answer makes her want to scream. "...Of what?"_

 _She sucks in a breath, holding it until it's physically impossible not to, fighting the desire to dig her nails into her forehead, pull her hair, scream into her pillow._

 _Instead, she just says the first thing that comes to mind._

 _"Of me."_

With the soft breeze blowing through her dark hair, eyes shut and standing motionless, the memory replays in her mind, along with the memory of Luke's back as he rushes through the door of her apartment.

But most of all...

Most of fucking all...

His eyes, staring wide at her as if he'd seen a ghost, a monster seconds away from devouring him on the spot. His lips quivering, and his body drawing farther and farther away from her.

...

As she stands on the roof of her 15-floor apartment, she can't get that face out of her head.

...

Staring forward, her eyes are met with the expansive and neverending shades of blue that make up the sky. Not a single skyscraper could compare to the beauty above her, and it's easy for the tall buildings to fade from her vision as her attention stayed set on the sky, as beautiful as a painting, with it's few but angelic and peaceful white clouds. There's an unusual saltiness in the air that hits her senses, and the cold pricks on her bare arms, threatening the childish delight she gets from looking across the landscape.

The next step she takes is halted by the buckling of her knees, and although she assumes it to be a side effect of her femur injury, she finds as her knees slam against the ground below that the roof is nearly a floor of ice.

She sees her distorted reflection, and lays her palms wide against the thick ice below, feeling her hands being pierced with the unwelcoming cold, her hands stick onto it like glue. She feels her newly put on bandages grow damp, and the frost begins to hurt so much her hands tremble.

Slowly, her legs robotically rise from the ground, wobbling slightly before regaining balance.

For a moment, she forgets the painfully numb feeling on her skin, she forgets the painfully numb feeling in her heart, and does the first thing she thinks to do.

She skates.

Not exactly skating, more so gliding across the ice in her small winter boots. But she treats the ice below her like the rink she grew up on, her legs shaking less and less as she adjusts back to the familiar feeling.

She has no idea what she looks like right now, but for her, it feels just like the rink. Her mind creates the sound of blades scraping across the ice, the sound of a soft piano melody playing as she moves fluidly, her body recognizing the dance she knew all too well.

She can even perform jumps, doing the loops, salchows, and axels she spent years of training trying to perfect.

Most of all, she feels their eyes, their warmth, their smiles. She feels their satisfaction grow with every haphazard jump, she feels their eyes widen with every landing, she hears their voices praise her. Her fathers' eyes, her mothers' warmth, Lee's smile.

Of all the things she misses about figure skating, this is what she misses the most.

It's a blissful feeling.

But she should know a feeling like that won't ever last, cause before she knows it, her thigh is hit with a piercing pain that inflames the rest of her leg, and leaves her to collapse onto the ice.

"Oh god..." She groans, her hands clasping onto her aching thigh. "Fuck! It hurts! It hurts!"

 _"Sweetie..."_

She ignores the voice, letting out more whines of pain, tears rolling down her cheeks. She sniffles, hissing through her teeth as she waits for the pain to eventually subside.

 _"Clem..."_

When she's finally able to move, she rises slightly, sitting upright and looking down at the ice below her.

The distorted reflection looks back at her, disturbingly calmer than she is. All she can do is face herself, breathing heavy as her heart pumps against her ribcage.

 _"You know what the doctor said..."_ Her reflection tells her, but the voice isn't hers.

...

...Her mom.

It sounds like her mom...but something about it sounds _wrong._ She can't pinpoint what, she can't even recall what her mom's real voice would sound like in its place.

"I love figure skating," Clementine says.

The reflection's laugh is warm, and reminds her of her mother's embrace.

 _"I knew you would."_

"I love it so much. You were right. I'm sorry." After a pause, Clementine lets out a soft sob, feeling her throat grow sore as she tries to hold back tears. Her fingers drag along the ice. "I miss you..."

 _"I know you do, honey...but you don't have to."_

Clementine stays silent, staring back attentively and letting her mom's words linger in her head.

"Clementine!" It's another voice now, and in her trance, it takes the young woman a moment to realize who it is.

Just the small action of turning her head toward the woman calling for her feels nearly impossible, as if bolts and chains are holding her down. Eyes like warm lakes of blue stare back at her, lines of worry set around them, and the bulky door wide open as she barely stands on the roof.

Katjaa.

As she notices the woman move to approach her, she holds her arm out shakily, still feeling chained to the ice below her. "Wait! You'll slip."

"I'll be fine, Clementine..." Katjaa assures her, carefully maneuvering toward her.

She takes the brief moment to look back to the reflection below her, which gazes back with the same confused and dumbfounded look.

"How did you get up here?" Katjaa asks, standing above her.

"...It was unlocked."

"It shouldn't be."

No response.

"Luke told me to come here. Is something wrong?"

Clementine frowns, her reflection frowns back. "I don't wanna talk about him."

"We're not-"

"I don't!"

After a long pause, Katjaa sighs, conceding. "Please, I need to know whether or not you're okay..."

She feels the bolts and chains pull harder than ever before, her head hanging low as her neck aches from an unknown force. Katjaa's gentle and familiar presence is the only thing that keeps her from caving. "I..." She mumbles. "I...feel like I'm going insane."

"Oh...Why's that?"

Clementine can barely swallow the lump in her throat, and needs to take a few moments to even begin to describe the feeling. "My parents are everywhere, but...but not really? I can see them all the time." Luke's name floats in her head. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy."

"Mhm?"

"I was talking to my mom!" She continues. "Just now, just before you came up! She was talking to me, she was right here!"

Katjaa's reply is delayed, and the ball of anxiety in the younger woman's gut seems to grow with each passing second.

"I just wanna be with them again..." Clementine says once the wait becomes too much to bear.

"I know, dear. But you can't."

Her eyes shift over, falling upon the bright horizon that shines over the edge of the roof. "I could..." She mumbles to herself, unknowingly.

There's a split second pause between the two, and Clementine sits there hoping the implication will go unnoticed. Katjaa clasps onto her shoulder and forces her attention from the roof back to her, she finds herself under the piercing gaze, and holds her breath.

"Don't you _ever_ say something like that, again!"

Katjaa was never one to anger easily, but she doesn't fail to intimidate her.

She worries her bottom lip and leans away. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

The intense lines within her face soften, and Katjaa pulls away again.

...

...

...

"Please come home. We miss you, and I don't like thinking about you being alone..."

"I..."

"Clementine, if you don't come with me, I'm going to have to call someone."

A cloud of exhaustion floats above her, realizing there isn't really any way out of it. She feels like a child being reprimanded for breaking a toy, and it does nothing to help her mood and esteem. Still, Katjaa's presence feels comforting, enough to ignore the cold chill that has been running through her body for the last few minutes. It might be the type of comfort she needs.

It's hard to believe she could ever feel better. She hasn't felt better for the last ten years, it's been a downward spiral. She can't help but be pessimistic that things can only get worse.

But she's just so...tired.

She lets herself fall into Katjaa as the woman embraces her. "I'm sorry..."

Katjaa simply holds her there. "...so am I."

* * *

The periodic ticks of his clock feel louder than usual. The sound ricochets against every dull wall, and comes back to him, again and again, in a constant echo, tuning out the words of the man in front of him. He leans over his chair, his legs crossed and eyes feeling as if they weigh his entire body down. Whenever he feels himself lean too far, close to falling, he jolts back awake, only to have the process repeat.

He can see by the way his father's eyes narrow toward him that he notices Luke's exhaustion, not that it was ever hard to spot. The older man chews on the end of his pen, giving him the up and down glance Luke should be accustomed to by now, it causes his spine to throb sharply.

On second thought, the pain in his spine may just be his terrible posture.

As he moves to sit more upright, his father speaks. "Bottomline is, the sooner we can get you up there the better. The farm's business is going down every second we stay in this ugly rundown city."

"So we have to get there as soon as possible?"

"Exactly."

"And...what you're saying is?"

"I focus on sellin' this house, you focus on the farm." He explains. "You don't need to worry about any of this real estate shit, I got that covered. You just need to focus on the farm. All I'm really gonna need you for is a few signatures, the house is still in your name."

Luke nods. "Alright, I can do that."

"Good kid." He grins, patting Luke on the shoulder. "With all the packin' we got done this last week, I'm hopin' for us to be out of here by tomorrow."

 _Tomorrow._

Good. He wants it to be quick.

Faces flash in his head, memories that make his heart drop back down to his stomach. The laughter of three eccentric middle schoolers, the nonsensical grumbling of his best friend. As always, he reacts the only way he knows how; as if he had dropped an expensive glass figurine, possibly a beautiful glass figure skater, elegant and graceful, perhaps a gift from a mother. No matter what it may be, now it's nothing more than a pile of broken glass on the ground, and rather than wallow in pity as it's cleaned up and thrown in the trash, he walks away from it.

"Sounds good."

"Happy you agree."

"Yeah." He pauses, and as the walls around him become suffocating, he can't help but escape. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air..."

"You're gonna go smoke." His father corrects, exposing his vagueness.

Luke grits his teeth, sighing. "Y-Yeah..."

"Go right ahead, be quick though, there's more to discuss."

He nods, retreating from the room before his father can go back on his word. The process of putting on the jacket feels too long, and slips from his mind willingly; leaving the house and entering the porch with no more than his sweater. The winter cold doesn't reject him, it almost feels like an embrace he lost a long time ago. It accepts him, and he accepts it right back.

Seeing the thin sheet of glossy ice that reflects off his patio stairs, he steps down them carefully, and gazes out into the familiar street.

The roads are obscured by the sheen of light snow, disturbed by the few sets of tire marks that expose the dark road. The snowfall was already beginning to fade, beginning to lapse back into the southern weather. Athens had been lucky enough to have had a white Christmas for the first time since he'd move there. It was a shame he'd spent the beloved occasion on his own.

The house across from him looks the same as it always had. Pale blue walls that seemed to fade more and more with each year, large and almost the same design as his own, like many of the houses that lined the neighbourhood.

He turned away from them and let his hand shuffle in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette. His hand goes into his pocket a second time, and takes out his father's cheap ruby red lighter, flicking it on and bringing it to the cigarette between his lips.

Smoking had always been his father's habit.

It began for him shortly after his father first came to Georgia. It wasn't long until he took notice of Luke's large collection of alcohol, and of course, had a few words to say about it. He told him the Porter family had always had "addictive personalities" and there was no way of curbing that. Instead, his father opted for him to replace his chosen addiction with cigarettes, because alcohol was more expensive, and " much worse."

Luke doesn't really fight him on it.

With the stash he was able to sneak into the house, kept snugly under his bed for him to indulge in late into the night, it was easy to keep his mouth shut.

As he inhales deeply, a voice cuts through his thoughts. "Luke! Is that you?"

Suddenly the winter chill pierces through his spine, and he freezes on the spot.

Please. Not her.

"Hey, Luke!"

A sigh escapes him, cigarette smoke flowing through his lips and into the tepid breeze. "Clem…" He whispers, finally turning to her.

She stands before him, the sprinkling of snowflakes along her dense array of curls makes her hair almost resemble a starry night sky. If it weren't for everything, he might have found it calming.

He watches as her eyes are drawn to the cigarette between his fingers. "Since when did you smoke?" She questions.

His response is as sharp as the ache in his neck. "What do you want?"

Her frown deepens, gloved hands hugging the sides of her sky blue coat. The way it contorts, her expression seems to hold back her terror.

"I…" He says. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad mood-"

"Hey, uh...Do you hate me?"

"What?"

She looks away. "...Katjaa said you didn't want to see me anymore…"

He recalls his words, taking a deep inhale of breath.

He didn't mean it like that…

Did he?

It was only weeks ago he promised himself he wouldn't interfere with her again. Wouldn't give himself false hope. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't then and he isn't going to be now, no matter how much he wants to be. He still found that to be an unquestionable fact.

Once a farm boy, always a farm boy.

But as he looks upon her now, he can't help but feel the remorse and regret of his emotional resolve.

The dark circles beneath her shades of amber were still clear to him, exposing her still wilted soul. Her eyes however, glimmer with something out of reach, something hopeful.

…

No.

It's still there. It doesn't just go away.

His mother was like this too. On and off like a switch.

But nevertheless, he can't stop himself from letting what's left of his cigarette fall into the snow.

"Clem…" He comes closer to her. "I could never hate you."

Her face brightens up, just a tiny bit.

"Things have just been hard for me lately…" He explains. "So...I told Katjaa I wouldn't be able to see you. But she told you I was rootin' for ya, right?"

After a longer than normal pause, she replies with a gentle nod.

"Well? I still am."

"..Okay...Good." She says. "I don't hate you either." The side of her mouth manages to hook into a tiny smile, one that he mirrors.

And yet, the atmosphere remains with a thick air, tense and impossible to ignore. So much is left unsaid, from the both of them, and both are unwilling to go ahead and ask.

As his gaze wanders to the dark curls that frame the sides of her face, and the messy strands at the top of her head, his mind seems to tell him that something is missing. It takes him a second to realize what exactly that thing is.

His hands grasp both sides of her upper arms, watching as her eyebrows rise, her arms drawing into her chest. "I have something for you." He tells her. "Stay right here." He spins on his heel to run back into the house.

But her voice stops him. "Is it another one of those orange creamsicle candles?"

"What?" He asks, looking over his shoulder.

"That's what you gave me as a birthday present for like two years in a row."

A pause. "Listen, money was tight, okay? This is better." He rushes into the house before she can say much more of the matter.

He sneaks past the archway of the dining room, swiftly enough that his father doesn't care to pay mind to him.

With brisk steps, he heads to the back of his house and into his room.

It's been long since he laid eyes upon it, let alone held it in his hands, but for whatever reason, he knows exactly where it is. He doesn't even need to give it a second thought.

And when he's back outside, he hides it behind his back as he approaches her.

As she observes him closely, he presents it to her. The navy blue, once bold and eye-catching, now faded and scratched. The ivory, once clear and untouched had developed a subtle yellow tinge. The embodied cursive 'D' in the middle had a collection of tiny loose threads aligning along its edge. Luke had never looked at something so pointless and so damaged with such affection.

His smile widens when her eyes light up. As her lips grow into a smile, he places it on her head. It's a perfect fit, maybe even suited her better than it did back then, as if nothing had ever changed.

Suddenly, his mind stops imagining the sharp hazel that could once gut him with a single glare, the dark thin strands of straight hair, the tracks of broken tears. The image of his mother becomes replaced with the girl he once knew.

"Clem..." His hand remains snugly on her head, and it slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. "I'm leaving..."

"Leaving?" She echoes back curiously.

"For good." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going back to Tennessee..."

"Why?"

"I have to. My...my dad..." He decides not to say too much more on it.

She looks down, brows furrowed as she processes his words. "When?"

"Soon."

...

He's shocked by her lack of resistance. She doesn't say anything for awhile, and part of him wants her to beg him to stay. But she just stands there silently, as if contemplating what the proper reaction would be.

"Thanks for the hat..." She says instead.

His mouth hangs open for a moment, before being brought back to reality. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I knew I'd have to get it back to ya one day."

"I just...I gave it to you cause...cause...I..." As she stumbles over her words, she rushes to take it off again. "Please take it back."

"Clem..."

She pushes it into his chest before he realizes he has no choice but to take it again.

"Now it's more important than it was before...that you have it." She says, shrugging. "It's obvious I'll never be in the Olympics but I...still don't want you to forget about me."

"I don't want you to forget about me either."

"I won't." She tells him. "Trust me."

"Neither will I."

She can't hide her doubtful expression. "I want you to remember...good things, okay? I want you to remember me when I skated."

"I-"

 _"Lucas!"_

He stops what he's saying, and his mind seems to draw a blank of what he'd even been thinking about before. The deep voice silences anything he may have wanted to do or say.

"I have to go."

"Wait-"

The hat feels misplaced in his tight grip. "...Will you be okay?"

She doesn't have the chance to answer.

 _"Lucas!"_

It's an instinct when he disobeys her and plants the hat right back on her head, and he's turning to his father's voice too suddenly for her to do anything about it. He doesn't hear her voice call back for him, but he can feel her eyes following him as he enters his house, shutting the door behind him.

Out of breath, he slides his boots off his feet. The little bits of snow that fly off them melt into the carpet, and he looks down at them as he speaks. "Sorry that took so long, I was just-"

"The hell is this shit?"

Luke looks up to see his father's hand gripping tightly to the arm of his old guitar, he can see the layer of thin dust that covers it, and the white scratches all across the ashy wood.

He hadn't seen that thing in who knows how long. He'd lost it for awhile, and uncovered it not long ago, but never used it. It brought back too many sad memories, especially now.

"Where'd you find that?" He asks.

"You really still play with this thing?" His father says over him. "I was hopin' you'd be past all this stuff by now."

"It's just a hobby, you ain't got anythin' to worry about."

His father scoffs, coming closer to him. "Better not." He passes the guitar over to him. "The next time I see this it better be in the trash."

Luke feels the weight of it on his arm, grimacing. "You don't have to tell me twice."

He grins back at him. "Good."

The younger man watches as his father draws away, turning and heading back into the dining room. He takes a moment to examine the acoustic guitar before him. The sharp strings of the lower arm sink into his palm, and he recalls the callouses that always burdened his fingertips. He holds it out as the light above him reflects off the wood, and he can almost hear the tune of a nameless song in his head.

...

...

He smiles.

* * *

Luke has always liked silence.

As he's gotten older, he's gotten the chance to appreciate it even more. When he was young, he was always enthusiastic to follow the rapid bustling of the world around him, a world that moved far too fast. But back then, he never got to truly dwell in moments like these.

The natural noises of the outside around him came to life. From the chirps of crickets, to the sweeping of the light breeze. He felt as if he could float away, like a cloud, or a bird.

As his father begins to speak, a crows' caw mellows through the air. "Come on, Lucas." He glances over his shoulder at the older man, leaning against the hood of the deep red car. "It's time to go."

"...One second." Luke pauses, looking upon the familiar road for one final time. He recalls his first time within the neighbourhood, the days he'd often hear the sounds of hockey sticks slapping against the road as the kids up the road played ball hockey, the sounds of kids moaning in despair at a loss, or cheering loudly into the open air at a win. The occasional sounds of cars dwindling through the street, the sounds of gentle hustling of people, the sight of the colourful and lush gardens outside the houses, all of it seemed to vanish once winter had arrived.

He closes his eyes, and breathes deeply, turning from the road and moving towards his father.

 _"Luke!"_ The voice makes him stop right where he's standing, as if it's paralyzing him. From the corner of his eye, he sees his father turn and look to the voice quizzically. "L-Luke!? Wait!"

"Who's this?" His father asks with a smirk. Luke only gives him a glance, ignoring the question.

"Luke, can I talk to you?"

He lets a sigh leave his lips, finally turning from his car to face the woman; his eyes meet an array of dark curls, and then big amber eyes. Clementine stands there, moving around restlessly where she stands and fiddling with her hands. Of course, on her head is the hat he'd given her only the day before.

"I just..." she says. "I just wanted to say...goodbye."

"I thought you already said your goodbyes?" His father cuts in.

"I...I did." Luke says, giving his father a second careful glance before going back to Clementine.

His father folds his arms, giving the young woman an up and down look, analyzing every one of her features. "Is it important?"

Clementine opens her mouth, hesitating. "...Yes. I just need to talk to him, just for a minute..."

Luke falters, shifting and looking to his father for approval. When his father nods back at him, he finally steps forward towards his old friend. Clementine regards him with an arched brow, before leading him to the driveway, furthering the distance between himself and his father.

"Are you...Are you okay?" Clementine whispers to him.

"What?" Is all Luke can reply with.

She takes a reassuring grasp of his forearms, her amber eyes staring directly into his. "You can tell me."

"Everything's fine..."

"I just...I just feel like there's...something going on."

"...Like what?"

Her eyes shift. "Do you wanna go with him? Is this really...*your* decision?"

Luke can't form a response, he only stares back at her.

Suddenly, his father's approaching now, and Luke freezes, a weight sinking in his stomach. "Luke. We need to go!"

"Please let me talk to him for a little-"

"Luke has said his goodbyes to you, we need to leave... _now."_

Clementine stares only for a second, before her voice cuts through them fiercely, enough to stop Luke where he is. "Shut up! Just shut up! Let me talk to him!"

There's a pause between the three of them.

Luke's father comes close to her, a grin on his face as he looks down upon her short form. Nevertheless, she stands up tall, not even a sign of the nerves she'd shown previously on her features.

Clementine shakes her head, ignoring the man in front of her and going on her tiptoes to try and gain a view of Luke.

"Luke...listen to me, please." His father stands in front of him and tries to obscure her from his view, keeping her from even touching him. The man towers over her, and Clementine trying to make eye contact with him is nearly impossible.

"Luke, he can't make you do anything! If you don't want this...you don't have to do this!" Clementine shouts earnestly. "You need to know that."

"How would you know what he wants? How bout you keep your mouth shut?" When Clementine pauses out of shock, he smiles. "I appreciate it."

She jumps to speak up in disobedience. "I know him! And I know there's something wrong with this-"

"I'm _his father-"_ Luke feels nails dig into his upper arm, the thick sleeve of his green shirt barely moderating the pure force of his father's demanding grasp. "-and lemme tell you that you ain't know _shit_ about _my_ son."

He avoids Clementine's large bronze eyes, eyes that shift between him and his father, confused and befuddled by the treatment she's getting. Her determination doesn't waver under his father's authority however, despite the fact he towers over her in his lengthy height, and not one bit of him is threatened by her.

Or maybe he is.

He doesn't want her to touch, speak to, or even see Luke. Other than those few seconds they got alone together, when his father was unaware of her intentions, he has since done everything in his power to keep Clementine as far away from him as possible.

"Y-You can't just make him go with you! There are people here who care about him! I care about him..."

"It's not your decision."

 _"It's not yours either!"_

"Luke." His father says.

His eyes, that have been trained onto the ground, or just about _anything_ but Clementine and his father, shoot up to see the two staring at him. The golden gaze is sharp with fear and worry, while his father's eyes are as casual and sly as can be.

"Tell her. Whatcha wanna do? Stay in Georgia with your wannabe lover girl? Or come back to Tennesse with your old man?" His eyes narrow. "Complete honesty, no need to lie."

He swallows thickly, heart beating a mile a minute and with no plans of slowing down. He only means to take a quick, meaningless glance at the other woman, but the look of desperation in her eyes make his eyes sting and lips quiver. Those brown eyes, he had the same ones, and couldn't fathom how his father could make them look so _cold._ How they manage to convey so much yet so little.

He knows what he has to say.

The way Clementine's face contorts makes him hesitate for longer than he usually would, but the nails digging violently into his arm brought him back to reality.

"...Tennesee." He says. "I wanna go back to Tennesee."

He didn't think his father's grin could get any wider.

Regaining his confidence, his father pushes his son closer to his side, now letting Clementine lay eyes upon him. "You really wanna _know_ my son? You wanna know what my son is!?"

The two words make Luke's muscles tense.

"A coward. A selfish coward." His father proclaims, his grip tightening with each and every word. "When things get tough, he runs away with his tail between his legs. No matter who it affects, no matter who it hurts, he runs away. Cause that's what's best for him! He left his family behind when it mattered most, just so he could hang around with you Georgia folk for a little while."

"Pa-"

"I don't know how much you _care_ for Lucas over here, you can bet your ass he couldn't care less about you, as you can see; he just left ya hangin' at the drop of a dime!"

His father bursts into a fit of deep laughter, pleased to have won his case.

Luke can't even look at Clementine, but he knows it's bad, it's so bad. He wouldn't blame her if she was on the edge of crying, because he knows he is. He wouldn't blame her if she spun on her heel and left the driveway right then.

"Luke's the farthest from being a coward, or selfish!" She tells his father. "He _taught_ me how to be brave, he told me to face things even when I was scared. He...He helped me. When I was sad, he always listened to me, and tried to make me feel better." Her stuttering becomes more prominent, sniffling in between words. "I-I was just some kid, some stupid fucking kid! Who he was in no way obligated to look after, or talk to, or help, but he did! F-For years! Because he wanted to! Because he cared!"

He hears the sound of Clementine's sneakers screeching across the pavement and at the spot he forces himself to fixate on, her shoes come into view. They're only inches away from his father's, she's challenging him, confronting him fully, much to Luke's shock.

"Luke's one of the bravest and most compassionate people I've ever met! If you can't see that, you have no idea how to be a father, or a decent fucking human being. He's worth more than you'll ever be!"

With clenched fists and furrowed brows, Luke finally gains the strength to look her way, and sees streams of tears falling down her cheeks unashamedly, her golden eyes filled with the flames he thought he'd seen the last of. Something flutters in him, watching her as she passionately defends him with not a single ounce of emotional restraint.

For the first time in weeks, he feels warm.

"Sorry girlie, but I'm not very interested in hearing whatcha gotta say about _my_ parenting. I know your story, Lucas told me. Haven't had a proper parent in your whole life, you wouldn't know discipline if it slapped ya across the face."

Clementine's reply takes too long, instead of a response, a gasp escape her lips, and she falters.

"Let's go, Lucas." His father says impatiently, his face relaxing smugly as he turns back toward their cars, dragging Luke along with him.

His heart, like a magnet, pulls him elsewhere.

But there's an anchor of temptation, hooked deep into his core with no point of return. Tempted to give up control, for the sake of his father's embrace. Maybe one day the contempt in his father's eyes will fall, maybe his father's thin lips will one day rise into a gentle smile, the type of smile his mother used to have.

He doesn't want to be alone anymore.

But he isn't alone.

That's what his heart reassures him. That's what she reassures him.

And just like that, he flicks his hand away from his father, a sharp gust of wind following his wrist.

"You haven't changed at all..."

A pause.

...

His father turns to him with a look of disbelief.

"I thought...I thought maybe...maybe you..." Luke breathes shallowly.

"Lucas-"

"I wanna stay."

"You can't do that."

"I can and I will."

...

His father's eyes flicker to the ground. "I'm sorry." He says. "Things got outta hand, I wasn't thinking...You know I can get a lil' crazy when I'm-"

"You don't have to pretend anymore." Luke cuts in. _"I know."_

Unkempt eyebrows furrow back on him, and Luke waits patiently for the words to click, for the crinkles of rage to return to his face, and just like that, they do.

"Lucas, I swear on my goddamn life. If you turn your back on me right now, I will _never_ speak a word to you again." He threatens. "Me and your mother will both be gone. You'll have _no one._ "

"You're *not* my father. Okay? I will never consider you my father. I'm not going to spend the rest of my years living with someone who makes me feel like shit!" He says. "So fine. Leave. If you don't, I'll make you. You know where I stand. I'm happy where I am...and if you know any better, you won't come back here."

"You selfish piece of fucking shit." He utters, turning away from them and stomping towards his car. "I'm out of here."

"Good."

He doesn't even look at him as he enters the car, slamming the door behind him as both Luke and Clementine move to the side to let him through the driveway. With vicious clenched teeth and furrowed brows, his father's dark eyes glare at the road before him, and the vehicle speeds off with a loud toil of the engine, down the road until Luke can see it no longer.

He stands there for a long time, almond eyes stuck to the roads before them. The weight of his father's last words lay heavy on his shoulders as he takes a step back; it brings a temporary slouch to his form. In the commotion, he hadn't even realized just how cold he had become, standing out in the winter weather. Frostbite clips at the tip of his fingers, the chill traveling through his shoes and reaching his toes.

After exhaling a warm breath, he turns on his heel and brushes past Clementine. Her lips part, she may have meant to say something, but Luke's passive demeanor halts whatever words she has in mind. Walking into the garage, he hears the young woman shuffling behind him, following him in before he reaches up to take a hold of the garage handle, pulling it down until it's shut. He can see the flecks of amber from the corner of his eyes, begging for an acknowledgment, but he can't give her anything.

He steps through the door that leads back into his home, Clementine still on his tail as he is hit with the warmth of the room. His exposed skin, his face, and hands, once numb and frozen, begin to sting.

But something else stings, his heart...his eyes. Before he can say anything about it, or even hide it, warm tears fall from his eyes. He can't find the strength in himself to stand any longer, his heart screams at him. It beats in his chest like a clock, ticking like a bomb about to detonate.

He falls to his knees, and Clementine once again follows him onto the ground, kneeling beside him as he sobs.

In most situations, the act would produce embarrassment in him, maybe even shame. But the turmoil in mind causes him to not give it a second thought. He couldn't recall the last time he cried.

So he just stays there, sobbing, he cries as if he'll never have the chance to again.

The worst part is he can't even figure out why, he has no excuse. He should be happy. All he's wanted for the past two decades was to get away from his father, and he's achieved that, finally.

He's not coming back.

He's not coming back.

He isn't sure how long it is until his sobbing is reduced to nothing more but soft sniffles, and as he wipes the tears out of his eyes, he sits there.

...

...

...

Clementine finally speaks, her voice soft, yet audible enough in the too silent room. "That was..."

"Pathetic?" Luke finishes with a snicker, warm tears still in the corners of his eyes.

"Brave." Clementine corrects him, placing a comforting palm on his shoulder.

"My dad's gone. I ain't ever gonna see him again." He says to himself with a sniffle, letting out a deprecating chuckle. "Christ. I can't believe I actually said all that shit to him."

"I know it wasn't easy, but...I'm proud of you, I guess, for what it's worth." She says.

...

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...

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...

"I was really scared you were gonna leave, Luke."

...

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"Did you really mean whatcha said back there?"

Her tone is low and serious. "All of it, Luke."

"You sure me being 'one of the bravest and most compassionate people you've ever met' ain't a *bit* of a stretch?"

She doesn't even joke with him. "I'm sure."

...

...

...

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"I'm sorry, Clem."

"...For what?"

"I haven't been the greatest friend, lately. I really gave up on ya there. I'm sorry."

...

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...

He feels Clementine wrap her arms around him, hugging his side as she leans her head on his shoulder. "It's okay..." She says. "Actually, I'm sorry too."

...

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...

Clementine speaks again, her voice soft and delicate. "I'm just glad you're here..."

The warmth that runs through his body soothes him. Not realizing how blurry things had been until the clouds in his vision faded away into the clearer image of Clementine's small smile. In that light, in that warmth, with her presence reassuring him all will be okay, he smiles.

"...Me too."


End file.
